


Axis

by Lucency (LuminousLantern)



Series: Redshift [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ame Orphans, Amegakure, Angst Because Ame Orphans, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Friendship, Gen, OC, Self-Insert, Third Shinobi World War, War Orphans, Worldbuilding, second shinobi world war, the kids are not alright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 112,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousLantern/pseuds/Lucency
Summary: Madara Uchiha decides to give someone else the Rinnegan, and the world tilts on its axis.
Series: Redshift [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080386
Comments: 42
Kudos: 180





	1. A Man Named Jiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: For all of the series' bright, happy, moments, it can be extremely dark. See, Sakumo Hatake. And the story of the Ame Orphans is up there. Just know what you're in for, yeah?

Jiro sighed deeply as he opened his eyes, moving his hand away from the child's stomach. Barely a child, even. He would have thought the baby on the table in front of him to be half a year old, if that, if her parents hadn't told him before that her first birthday was in two days. He knew she was sick even before he used chakra on her, her wet, rattling coughs reaching him from across the room. He lifted his gaze, past the hopeful face of her mother, to the rain streaming down the window above her. If the weather was better than maybe…

He ran a hand through his hair with another sigh, and her face crumpled. He didn't need to use chakra to know that the baby had a weak immune system. One of the weakest he'd come across in fact. It was something of a miracle that she had lived this long in a village of constant rain. The baby was barely clothed—dressing her in layers gave her a fever, but anything less made her shiver from the cold—and her skin was almost yellow. He lowered his eyes back to her, watching her mouth open and close as she gasped desperately for air, her eyes rolled up. Her mother started crying. Jiro supposed that they called for him because they expected him, a medic-nin, to know some secret technique, or some chakra based cure-all to fix her. He stood up. It was this part that he hated most of all. He didn't like telling parents that there was no hope for their children, but more often than not, that was the reality he was faced with.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He watched her pick up the dying infant but averted his eyes as she squeezed her to her chest and brushed wet strands of black hair out of her face. Jiro closed his eyes, but even as he went over it again, he couldn't think of a single way to help her. A small chakra transfusion between her and a family member could give her immune system a much-needed boost, but he knew her body would either outright reject the foreign chakra or would start attacking itself to try and get rid of it.

"There's nothing I can do."

Her crying turned to heaving sobs. Jiro looked at the window again and willed it to stop raining for a few minutes, even a few seconds, just long enough for him to think that the baby had even the smallest of chances to survive. The rain pattered on. He turned away. He thought of what she looked like when she first sought him out, her red hair a bright stroke of color in this dreary place they called a village. Her eyes had gone to his headband first, licking her lips as if she was starving and it was the only thing that could sate her. She'd offered him money, but it was remembering why he'd turned to medical ninjutsu in the first place that made him follow her.

Once upon a time, Jiro thought he could make a difference. He'd wanted to save people. He still did in a way, but his rose-tinted glasses had been broken with the death of his teammate back when he still wanted to serve the village, and then utterly shattered as more and more of the people he tried to save died at his feet.

He thought of telling her to prepare a grave, because he didn't think the infant would live through the night, but that was just cruel. He cleared his throat. "If you need me again…" he trailed off. She wasn't listening to him anyway, murmuring quietly to the infant as tears dripped from her chin.

**はじめ**

Madara Uchiha considered himself a patient man. He waited for the rumors and accounts of his death to spread across the five great nations, giving him free reign to do what he wanted without interference. He waited for Hashirama's foolish dream of peace to topple under the weight of his naivety, and fall it had, once the First Shinobi World War broke out. He waited even longer for the Rinnegan to finally, _finally,_ awaken, the first stepping stone on the path to true peace. Even now, as his body failed and his strength left him, he was willing to wait.

He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on a family of Uzumaki in the house across from him. Half-Uzumaki, he corrected himself after a quick, dismissive glance over the man. His black hair didn't necessarily mean he wasn't one of them, but his chakra, which was barely worth looking at, was. His arms were around a woman with red hair, a child cradled in her lap. His eyes skimmed over her too. He could see the wasted potential in how small her chakra pool was, how everything about her screamed 'civilian' despite her heritage being anything but. It was the boy that spiked his interest. He was hovering on the other side of the room, watching them from behind the safety of a door frame. His chakra reserves…

Well, they were something Madara could work with. He was well aware of how little time he had left in this world, and how much he still had yet to put into place. The idea of leaving his eyes to rot in a jar somewhere, or entrusting them to Zetsu to find someone that would resurrect him after all he had done to get them in the first place... It was laughable, at best. No, he needed these eyes to thrive. He needed them to be powerful when he got them back, enough to match his body once he was revived in his prime. What better than to leave them to a child descended from a family known for their enormous chakra pools? If he gave the boy his eyes, he would be forced to grow up to be powerful. He wouldn't wilt away like his mother. Madara's eyes slid to the baby, but even she had far less potential. None, in fact. Since the last time he looked, she died.

Hmm. Madara looked at the boy again. Yes, he would do. With the proper guidance, a nudge here and there in the right direction-

A spark of blue in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced over, and for the first time in a long, long time, Madara was surprised. He took a step closer, his body stiff and barely his own as White Zetsu mimicked his movement. The fact that the infant was clinging so desperately to life might have impressed him a little, but surprise? No, that was for the chakra flaring from her middle. Seconds—or had it been minutes—earlier, the brief glanced he'd given her told him that she barely produced enough chakra to keep herself alive, never mind to use. Even if she stayed alive, he would have predicted her to turn out to be a bigger disgrace to her name than her mother.

This however, was not the same infant. Her chakra was almost white in its intensity, her spiritual chakra suddenly rivaling the normal reserves of the boy. For all his experience and knowledge, Madara couldn't come up with an explanation for what he saw. It fascinated him. In an instant, his plans shifted, and the boy in the corner was forgotten.

He found someone else to inherit his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> はじめ - Beginning  
> Biweekly updates until caught up to FFN, then updates every two weeks.


	2. A Boy Named Nagato - Part 1

"We were given a chance to do it all over again

So bright and divine, so gentle and kind, our ordinary lives

Overflow, watch it grow with happiness."

-rachie, Town of Jade

* * *

Nagato was cold.

He pulled a blanket tighter over his shoulders as he padded over to the window. It was just barely long enough to brush against his waist, and a dull, faded blue from being washed in the lake one to many times. Still, he clung to the thin fabric as he stared through the glass. He looked past the drops sliding down, the puddles soaking the grass, up to the dark clouds filling the sky.

Nagato wondered what the sun looked like. He'd seen drawings of it in one of his books, rough, black and white sketches of a ball of light that hung high in the sky, but he'd never seen it before. He didn't think Amegakure had a sun for a long time, until his mother told him that it was there, just hidden behind the clouds.

"Mm,"

Nagato glanced back, moving closer to the bed on the other side of the room, "You awake, Oka?" he asked, leaning over her. Her face was scrunched up, but her eyes didn't open. He felt her forehead. "Your fever's gone down, at least." he murmured, sitting on the floor.

He looked out the window. Maybe one day he could take Oka with him to see the sun.

Oka had been sick for a long time. But she was slowly getting better, stronger. Her fevers used to be so bad that her teeth would chatter even though her clothes were soaked in sweat. He wasn't allowed in her room back then, but that didn't stop him from checking on her in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. She slept most of the time, and only woke up once or twice during the day. But back then, she never woke up at all.

Nagato turned back to Oka, pausing when he saw that her eyes were half-open. "I brought a new book to read," he said, watching her head slowly turn. He scooted forward, reaching between the mattress and the bedframe for the book he'd hidden there. He'd only started doing it after he caught his mother and father doing the same to the things that were important to them.

He brushed dust off the cover, tracing his thumb over the faded spiral in the middle. The book was older than he was. It was small too, about the size of his father's hand. The cover was sturdy, but the pages inside were yellowed. His mother gave it to him as a birthday gift. It was important to her, so it was important to him too.

Oka's dark orbs followed him as he stood, sitting on the edge of her bed. "This one doesn't have a name," Nagato told her, opening the book to the first page. He held it out to her, watching her study the drawing on the left page, of waves cresting against a shore. Most of the words on the right page were smeared or hard to read. "This story is about a princess," he began, turning the page.

It had the same drawing, except a little girl had been added, her hair flowing around her as the ocean circled her feet. "She lived on an island protected by a sea dragon," he said, making his voice low and dramatic, "The dragon would make huge whirlpools that destroyed anything that tried to cross the water," the third page showed the wreckage of a boat sticking out of the sand, with whirlpools swirling in the background.

"The dragon would only let the people who lived on the island cross the water, and only if they promised to bring something for the dragon when they came back. Everyone was happy," the page after that was his favorite. It was a painting of the sun. "It was warm," Nagato said, tracing his thumb against it. "And it never rained."

Oka stared up at him with wide eyes. "But it always rains." she said, her voice quiet and weak.

"Not there," Nagato said firmly. "There were clouds sometimes, but no rain," he glanced at her as she stared at the page, waiting a few seconds before turning it.

"But then the island was attacked." The sketch showed flames covering the island. "The princess had to run away from the island or die with everyone else she loved."

"What happened to the dragon?" Oka asked.

Nagato went to the next page. Three figures with smudged headbands poked at the water with sticks. "The attackers tried everything to kill the dragon," he read. "But nothing worked. Until," the next page was of a woman with short hair, kneeling next to the edge of the water. She held a vial, frozen in the middle of pouring its contents into the water. "The enemy made a poison. It was so strong that not even the dragon could resist it."

The princess was running in the sketch after that, her arms held up against the branches drawn in her path. Her dress was torn, and scratches covered her legs. "The princess ran and ran," Nagato said. "While her island burned to the ground behind her."

He turned to the next page. The princess was standing at the edge of a field, staring across a body of water at a tower made of metal. Her hair wasn't flowing anymore, but stuck to her back, soaked through from the rain. "The princess had to find a new place. One that wasn't like her little island. Everything was made of metal, and the buildings stretched so high in the sky that they touched the clouds."

"I'm sleepy," Oka mumbled.

Nagato glanced back. Her eyes were closed. "Okay," he said, closing the book. "I'll save the rest for later."

**好感度**

"Ah, you're getting heavy."

Nagato kept a tight hold around Oka as he navigated downstairs, keeping a careful eye on the steps in front of him. She shifted against him, leaning against his shoulder. He tried not to let it throw off his concentration as he took another step down.

"Tired today too?"

Oka nodded. She was always tired. There were just some days that she was less tired than others. "But I want to see papa," she said.

"Not mama?"

"Mama's gonna read to me later."

"A new book?"

Oka shook her head.

"The one about the samurai?"

She shook her head again.

"The underwater village?"

Oka hesitated.

"I'll ask," Nagato said. "I know you like that one."

He reached the bottom, relieved that he'd managed it. He carried Oka up and down the hallway before, but never down the stairs. He took her to the living room. There wasn't much space, but a small couch had been squeezed into it. Their father was sitting in the middle, leaning over a bunch of books and scrolls spread out on the table in front of him.

Nagato knew that the books were about medicine, but it too advanced for him to read.

Their father glanced up, and Nagato caught the flash of surprise in his eyes before he smiled, beckoning them over. "If it isn't my favorite red-head," he said, ruffling Nagato's hair.

"Hey!" The shout came from the kitchen.

"Its alright dear," his father said back, winking. "You'll always be my second favorite red head."

Nagato ducked his head to hide his smile.

"And my favorite little wolf," he said, taking Oka from him. She gave a weak growl and bit at his shirt when she was put in his lap. She tired herself out in seconds. "You should be resting."

"Wanted to see you," she murmured, curling against his chest.

He rubbed her shoulder. "Then you're lucky to have a big brother like Nagato, eh? I wouldn't have carried you all the way down here."

"Liar," Nagato muttered, but couldn't hide his grin.

"What? No, never," he pretended to look hurt, raising his voice. "Fusō, tell Nagato that I would never lie to him."

"Every word out of his mouth is a lie," came the reply.

Nagato laughed. He sat on the couch, just as a dish shattered in the kitchen. He wouldn't have thought anything of it if his father didn't tense, alerting him that something was wrong. He heard rushed footsteps. "I saw them through the window," she said, soap still on her hands. "They're coming, Ise!"

He was confused, until he heard voices behind the front door. His mother inhaled. Oka had been falling asleep, but her eyes shot open as she was swept up, their father's eyes flicking around the room. He cursed.

"Who is it?" Nagato asked as his mother took his hand, squeezing until his fingers hurt. She pulled him towards the stairs. "What's wrong?" he tried. He jumped when a crack appeared in the door, his parents flinching away from the bang.

"There's no time," his father whispered, looking up the steps. "We'll be trapped up there."

His mother swallowed but nodded.

They were huddled in the corner when the door finally caved in. His mother tightened her hold on him, shielding him with her body. Nagato ducked down when he saw part of a green sleeve. He tried to make himself as small as he could. Oka was squished against their father's chest.

Nagato could hear them talking and throwing open cupboards in the kitchen. He shuddered. He didn't know who they were, and he didn't care. He just wanted them to go away and leave them alone.

"We have to make a run for it," his father murmured, his tone grim. "We can't stay here."

Nagato shook his head. He was too afraid to move.

"It's alright," his mother whispered, stroking his hair. "We just have to get out of here, and we'll be fine."

"Wait, come look at this. Someone was here," the intruder lowered his voice. "The faucet is dripping, and these plates are still wet."

His parents tensed, his mother shooting a panicked look at his father.

"Shinobi, you think?"

"We know there aren't any civilians left around here."

"Think it's an ambush?"

"Let's split up. You cover the top floor and I'll look around here."

His mother covered his mouth, and Nagato realized how loud he was breathing.

"I bet you just want to take all the food for yourself before I get back-" the intruder stopped short when he came out into the hallway. Nagato watched his eyes widen, his hand going for the pouch strapped to this side.

He didn't notice his father put Oka down until he got up and charged. "Run, Fuso!"

"Over here!" the intruder shouted.

His mother wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head. "Give Oka a kiss for me, okay?" She stood up as the second intruder ran out into the hallway, weapon in hand.

"Wait," Nagato whispered, reaching for her as she ran away from him. He could only watch as his father took a step back and fell, hitting the ground with a thud. He scooted back until he hit the wall, trembling at the sight of the weapon sticking out of his father's chest.

"Nagato, take Oka and run!" his mother screamed.

Nagato flinched, dragging his eyes away from his father. Oka was on her hands and knees, eyes wide. He tugged her against him, covering her eyes as their mother tilted forward. He remembered to close his own too late, after he saw the blood coming from her neck.

The first intruder cursed. "Civilians?"

"Looks like it," the second said with a shake of his head, crouched over his father. "And," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Nagato's. "They have kids."

Nagato didn't want to die.

"What do we do?"

He didn't want Oka to die.

"We can't leave them."

His eyes went to his mother's body. Her eyes were frozen open in shock. He was terrified, but she'd told him to run. It was the last thing she said before-

Nagato choked on his tears.

"We can't take them!"

He pushed himself up while they argued, refusing to let Oka look at them. Nagato grit his teeth and charged for the door.

"Hey, wait-!"

Nagato slipped a little on the blood but managed to stay on his feet as he sprinted out into the rain.

"Let him go. This way they're not our problem."

He was glad it was raining. That way no one could see his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 好感度 - Fondness


	3. A Boy Named Nagato - Part 2

"You said if you could fly,

You would fly far - far into the sky

So all you'd ever know

Is that blue - that blue sky up above."

-Blue Bird, LeeandLie

* * *

Nagato rubbed a stick between his hands until his palms hurt, pressing one end against a rotten plank of wood he'd fished out of a pond. He stopped to inspect his work, but it was no good. It was too wet to catch fire. He didn't know if he was doing it right, but he was freezing, and Oka was leaning against his leg, shivering.

"Naga?" Oka murmured, clinging to his pants. "When's mama coming back?"

Nagato faltered. He forgot sometimes, that he didn't let Oka see what happened. "I don't know." He sniffed hard, rubbing his eyes. "I wish she was here too-" He stopped before he fell apart.

He needed to be strong for her.

He rubbed harder.

He wanted to protect her from the truth.

It didn't do any good. He hiccupped, tears sliding through his fingers. Every time he thought of his parents, it was watching like them die all over again. A nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be hugged, to be told that everything was alright. But that wasn't possible.

It was just him and Oka in a damp cave.

Nagato cried until he fell asleep. He dreamed that he was sitting in Oka's room, listening to their mother read a story about a rabbit from the moon. He woke up disoriented, and a second before reality set in, he thought he was home. Then he rubbed his eyes and the roof of the cave came into view. He shuddered.

Oka was curled beneath him, arms under her shirt.

Nagato's hand shook as he felt her forehead, the action stiff and automatic. It didn't feel like she had a fever, but her skin was ice. He sat up and looked out at the rain, arms around his legs. The cave was cold and damp, but at least they were dry. Even if he was so hungry it felt like he was being eaten from the inside out, even if he was all alone, _at least he was dry._

Nagato buried his face in his arms. Oka was barely awake anymore. She was getting weaker, and he knew, he _knew_ the cold was making her sicker, but he didn't want to leave the cave. He didn't want to face the world that had taken his parents from him.

_"Which story do you want to read today, Nagato? The monk who carved the moon out of wood or the traveling merchant who created an island from the stars?"_

_"The monk!"_

_His mother looked at the cover of the picture book he'd chosen and scrunched her nose up. "You sure? It's really, really boring," she whispered behind her hand._

_"You told me to choose," he said, even as he hid a grin under his blanket._

_"I did," she agreed. "And I can't blame you for choosing the monk. You inherited your father's love of old, boring books, after all," she said wistfully._

_"I still want that one," he said stubbornly, refusing to let her change his mind._

_His mother nodded once. Then she threw the book about the monk behind her and scooted forward, opening the book about the traveling merchant._

The memory made him smile, but it also made him feel like chains were wrapped around his heart. He could feel them weighing him down every time he breathed in.

Oka shifted in her sleep, reaching out for him.

Why did they leave him alone? He didn't know how to take care of Oka. He didn't even know how to take care of himself. It wasn't fair. He felt angry and scared and sad all at once. Why did they have to die? Why did the intruders have to come into his house and take everything from him? But he couldn't go back. What if they were still there? Worse still, what if they weren't? He couldn't face his parents again.

"I'm sorry, Oka," he sniffed. He should've left to find food earlier, should've found someplace warm for her, should've tried harder. If he was just a little stronger, a little bigger, he could've helped his parents. He was sorry for a lot of things.

Nagato pressed his thumb into the mud between his legs and drew two names.

Fusō and Ise.

He stared at them. "Sorry," he whispered, hoping they could hear him. Hoping that they could forgive him. He gathered Oka in his arms and stood, stumbling slightly. He felt lightheaded. His legs were stiff as he stepped outside. He looked up at the clouds. He hoped that they were there, together on an island in the stars.

**サンダ**

The fifth door answered him.

Nagato took a step back after knocking, his knuckles bruised and red. He was soaked, but he stopped feeling the rain after the first few minutes. Oka's arms were tight around his neck, fighting for warmth in his shoulder. She was awake. Her wet, sagging clothes had stirred her into consciousness, and the rain pricking at her bare skin kept her that way.

The door cracked open and the man behind it stuck his head out, eyes flitting back and forth. Then he looked down, surprised and suspicious. Nagato should have felt relieved. Or at least he thought he should. But he didn't feel much of anything. Just hungry. And tired. He was so very tired.

"Food," Nagato blurted out, then reconsidered. "If you have any extra food…" he trailed off. "Please. We don't have any money, but we don't have anywhere else to go," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Just a little. For my sister."

Nagato felt a small thread of hope as the man considered him, the first time he felt anything like it since his parents died. The man lingered on Oka, and then he took a pair of scissors and cut his hope apart with a small shake of his head. Nagato lingered on the doorstep long after the door closed.

"What do we do now, Oka?" he whispered.

There were still a few houses left. He could try them, knocking until his knuckles bled and the rain drowned out the quiet. Nagato didn't want to. He wanted to give up. He wanted to sit against the wall and tell the world that it won, because he didn't want to do this anymore. It would've hurt less if the door hadn't opened at all.

But if he died, Oka would die with him.

It was this thought that made him step off the porch. It was what made his legs move toward the next house. And maybe, it was what made him glance through the window before he got too far away.

Nagato stopped, staring at the bowl of bruised fruit through the glass. His mouth watered. His stomach growled pitifully. And he felt angry. That man had food. Just not for them. He tried to shake the anger off, convincing himself that he might have a family to feed. Maybe he really didn't have any food to spare.

_He couldn't give up one orange?_

He wanted to steal it. The urge surprised him, and he shook his head hard.

"No," he said forcefully, making his feet turn, even as the rest of him seemed to resist. "I won't. I won't steal."

He was starving, but he could last a little longer. Long enough to find another way. He wouldn't resort to taking something away from someone else just to make himself better.

_You can last, but what about Oka?_

Nagato stopped again. He thought of the weight in his arms. Oka, his frail sister. He looked back at the fruit. She was depending on him.

What if other people were depending on that bowl of fruit? Could he take what might be their only food away just to feed his sister?

Could he let his sister die just to feel like he did a good thing?

"What should I do, Oka?" he asked, burying his face in her shoulder. "Tell me what to do."

She didn't, of course.

Nagato moved closer to the window. He glanced as far as he could into the room beyond it, but he didn't see the man. He looked at the fruit again. His sister, or his morals? Her life, for another life? He could just take one. But how long would it be before he was hungry again? A few hours? A few minutes?

He licked his lips. He could already taste it, feel the tangy sweetness filing his mouth. He was so hungry.

Nagato put Oka down. He wanted to keep her in his arms, keep her safe, but he needed both hands. "Stay here and don't move, okay?"

Oka looked sleepy and confused but nodded. He could see her cheekbones through her skin.

Nagato nodded back and climbed onto the window sill. He pressed a hand against the glass, staring at the fruit on the other side. He thought of breaking it, but recoiled at the idea. He didn't think it would be hard, with the right sized rock, but it wasn't something he was willing to do. He felt around instead, until his pinky found a tiny hole at the bottom, where the window hadn't been closed all the way.

His hands shook. It took a few hard tugs to open, and it left him out of breath. He stared at the prize for his efforts, his fingers twitching but unmoving at his side. The fruit stared back. The bowl was in front of him, but his arms wouldn't move.

He wanted Oka to live.

He didn't want to steal.

Nagato closed his eyes and reached forward, his breath hitching as his fingers closed around something round and soft. He opened one eye. He was holding an orange, bruised and covered in dark spots, but still. His eyes went wide. He'd done it.

He jerked when he heard a shout and fumbled the orange. Nagato managed to grab it before it rolled off the table, but not before he knocked the bowl over. He watched an apple bounce off the sill and disappear. He looked up and the man was halfway across the room, hand outstretched to grab him.

Nagato scrambled off the sill. Oka was kneeling, in the middle of reaching for one of the fallen fruits when he landed next to her. He scooped her up in a panic and took off.

"Bastard! Thief!"

He didn't look back, but the words settled in his chest, like a black stain on his heart. Nagato only stopped once he squeezed himself into the space between two buildings and convinced himself that the sound of the man running after him had only been in his head. He sunk against the floor.

Oka tore into her bruised and battered apple once he put her down in his lap, juice dribbling down her chin. It made him feel a little better, seeing her eat. Somehow, he'd kept a hold of his orange. Nagato stared the lumpy mess.

His stomach begged for it but when he finally took a bite, it was bitter.

**ライトニング**

Stealing was easier after that.

Nagato's hands still shook when he grabbed half a loaf of bread when the baker had her back turned, or water from a merchant, but he stopped feeling as bad. He learned to use the rain to hide his footsteps, how to use even the smallest distraction as an opportunity. He was picky at first, only stealing from those he thought had enough to spare, who wouldn't be affected by his thievery.

But that left him and Oka walking the line of starvation. There was never enough to keep the hunger away for long. He wanted Oka to get better, and the only way to do that was to steal from more people. People with less to give. He decided that he could either worry about himself and Oka, or he could worry about the wellbeing of everyone else at his own expense.

In the world they lived in, he couldn't do both.

So, he chose Oka. Even if he had to fight a part of himself to do it.

Nagato also learned that Oka liked apples the most.

He looked around the corner, holding a small brown sack with one hand. It only fit two apples and an orange, or one piece of meat, but Nagato didn't often try and steal meat. He knew it was rarer than the other stuff, because merchants were more protective of it, more watchful of kids with sticky fingers. He'd only managed to steal meat once, and it was the only time he was ever caught.

It didn't look like he was followed. He never was, but he checked anyway, so he wouldn't put Oka in danger. Nagato ducked into the alley where he left her. She was still asleep. He sat and ate an orange while he waited for her to wake up. It was soft, a little rotted on the inside, but it still tasted sweet.

"You're back," Oka yawned.

"Look what I got you." Nagato presented an only slightly bruised apple to her, grinning when her eyes lit up.

She pounced for it, almost taking his thumb as her teeth sunk into it. His smile faded. He was happy that she was getting stronger, enough to play with him like she used to with their father. He pulled his legs up. Thinking about his parents always made him sad and angry. He tried not to anymore.

"I told you he'd be here," a gruff voice said.

Nagato stood, his eyes going wide. It was the man from the market, the one he thought hadn't been paying attention. He looked at the older man next to him, grimacing. He'd stolen from him too.

"Easy to follow a rat's trail if you leave out a few breadcrumbs," he continued, staring at them.

Nagato grabbed Oka and ran—only to be jerked back but the collar of his shirt. The sack fell, thumping to the dirt.

"Oh, you're not getting away this time," the merchant said, dragging him backward. "Someone has to teach the rats around here a lesson. And since the shinobi in this damn village won't, I will."

Nagato dropped Oka, ignoring the urge to wince as she hit the ground. "Run!" he shouted at her. He twisted, fighting to get out of the merchant's hold, but his grip was iron. He even tried scratching at his fingers, but he didn't budge.

Oka got up on her knees, wide-eyed. Though neither man seemed interested in her.

"I think it'll be enough, if it's just one finger," the gruff man said, following the merchant.

"We should take the whole hand," the merchant replied with a snort. "Little rat's been stealing from me for weeks."

"Let go!" Nagato shouted in frustration, but they didn't acknowledge him. He stole because he wanted to live. Was that so wrong?

Oka wasn't running.

_Why wasn't she running?_

Nagato thought he saw something shift in her eyes as she stood up, but he never got the chance to see what it was. The merchant abruptly dropped him with a grunt of pain. Nagato gasped as he landed in the mud. He scrambled back, just in time to watch a rock collide with the merchant's forehead. He stumbled, clutching his wound, and the gruff man turned away from Nagato to look for the culprit.

Nagato knew an opening when he saw one. He got to his feet and grabbed Oka, holding her awkwardly as he darted out the other end of the alley. He ran until his legs hurt, until he was far enough away that he was sure they wouldn't be able to find him. They couldn't find him if he couldn't find his own way back.

He collapsed against the side of a building, the windows shattered and abandoned. Part of the roof was charred. "I don't want to steal anymore," he murmured to his sister, knowing he wanted the impossible.

He didn't want to go back to the gnawing pain in his stomach, the emptiness in his head. Being too weak to lift his arms and legs.

Oka wrapped her arms around him. "I'll steal," she promised, eyes serious.

She wouldn't, because he wouldn't let her, but the declaration made him smile when all he wanted to do was cry. He dozed off like that, dreaming of a story the village would tell their kids when he was old and wrinkly, about Oka the Thief.

Nagato opened his eyes to an orange-haired boy standing over him. He started, but he was already against a wall. There was no where to go.

"I'm Yahiko," the boy said cheerfully, as if he hadn't scared him awake.

Nagato stared.

"The rocks from earlier?"

His eyes went wide. "You did that?"

"Yep!" Yahiko shot him a sly grin.

"How did you find me?"

Yahiko shrugged. "I followed you. It was easy."

Nagato couldn't help being on guard. No one around here did anything for free. "Why did you help me?" he asked carefully. He sat up, pulling Oka's sleeping form into his lap. Away from Yahiko.

"I only did to them what they did to you," Yahiko explained. "They treated you like dirt, so I treated them like dirt. That's all." His smile was all sharp edges. "But that means you owe me." He held out his hand.

Nagato hesitated, but nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do." he muttered. What kinds of things would they have done to him if Yahiko didn't intervene? He reached for the other boy's hand, only for Yahiko to slap his fingers away. Nagato blinked at him in surprise.

"Not for that," Yahiko said with a dismissive wave. "You stole from them, which means you also stole from _me. That's_ what you owe me for."

"From you?" Nagato repeated, baffled.

Yahiko scrutinized him, lacing his hands behind his head. "You really don't know anything, huh?" He sighed. "Come work for me and we can forget all this."

"Why would I do that?"

Yahiko tilted his head. "Because you owe me. I said that. You don't listen much, do you?"

Nagato flushed. Yeah, he owed him. But he didn't want to work for him.

"You're going to make this hard, aren't you?"

"Work for you," Nagato said again.

Yahiko groaned, tilting his head back. His eyes flicked to Oka. "We have food, back at the hideout. You help me steal more and I'll think about cutting you a share."

It was dirty of him to use Oka's wellbeing like that. But he _was_ swayed by the promise of food. "Why me? Aren't there other kids you could ask to help you?"

"Yeah," Yahiko agreed. "But none of them owe me."

"I don't owe you _that_ much."

Yahiko looked away, his expression suddenly serious. "And I've been watching you," he admitted.

"You're good at this. More than good," he shot Oka another considering glance. "I'm going to stop this war, even if I have to take over the whole world to do it. But not alone. I can't. You're like me. We don't steal because its fun. We steal because this world left us with no choice. Too many kids end up like us because of war, but I'm going to change that. I want you to help me." He held his hand out again.

Nagato was taken aback by the determination in his eyes, by how much Yahiko believed in what he said. It was crazy. They were too small, too weak to do anything. Still, the speech stirred a small, distant part of him. He didn't want to watch anyone else he loved die for nothing. What did Yahiko say? Because of _war._ Nagato hesitated as he reached out, but ultimately grasped Yahiko's hand.

"My name is Nagato," he said as they shook.

Yahiko nodded. "And her?"

"Oka."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> サンダ - Thunder, ライトニング - Lightning


	4. A Girl Named Oka - Part 1

"I stand gazing down at death as they say war,

I'll wage war,

I hate war,

They say fight for peace-but what is that?"

-aLIEz, LeeandLie

* * *

Konan hummed as she folded the last corner of the paper dog, holding it out for Chibi to see. "It's you." She gave the pointed ears a small tug and watched Chibi tilt his head, his own short ears twitching as he scrutinized it.

She thought he was a puppy when she first found him, another almost-casualty of the never-ending war, but Yahiko said he was just small from not eating enough. Chibi inched forward, giving her creation a brief sniff before he pulled it away with his teeth. She smiled as she watched him paw at it, propping her chin on her hands.

Chibi gnawed at the back legs, the paper drooping as he drooled all over it, but that was okay. She could just make another one. It was a good practice, anyway. She watched him stop suddenly, lifting his head to look at something behind her.

Konan stood—prepared to run if it was someone they stole from, but it was only Yahiko.

"Hey Konan," he greeted, hopping over the sacks of rocks they'd piled in front of the entrance.

If someone unwanted did find their hideout, the sacks were supposed to slow them down for a few seconds, just long enough for them to get away.

A boy with red hair trailed after him, carrying a small girl on his back. He looked at all the crates and baskets filled with half-rotted food, eyes wide.

"This is all stolen?" he asked.

"Yep," Yahiko replied with a grin.

Konan couldn't believe him. Just a week ago he was lecturing her about Chibi being another mouth to feed, and yet here he was with two more. "What happened to the no stray's policy, huh?" she asked, hands on her hips.

Yahiko sat on a crate. "They aren't strays. They're _employees_. It's different."

The red-head made a face at the word 'employee'.

"Then Chibi is an employee," Konan argued.

Chibi raised his head at the sound of his name, tail wagging in happy confusion.

"Nah," Yahiko leaned back. "He can't help us steal stuff. He's a stray."

"He steals stuff for us all the time!"

"Shoes don't count."

"Why not?"

"We can't _eat_ shoes."

"But it makes him an employee, right?"

Meanwhile, the red-head moved away from Yahiko and put the girl down in the corner. She yawned, curling against him as he knelt next to her. He felt her forehead, then muttered something too low for Konan to hear.

"We can't even wear the shoes he brings us," Yahiko went on. "They're always too big or have holes in them."

"He's trying."

"If he ever got anything we could use, then he can be an employee."

They looked at each other. Konan broke the stare first, covering her mouth to fight off a traitorous giggle.

Yahiko cracked a smile. "Besides, I need their help," he added.

Konan groaned. "Don't tell me you told him about-"

"Ending the war? Becoming a god?"

"A god?" the red-head mumbled.

Konan felt exasperated, "How long have you known him?"

"A few hours."

Konan slapped a hand against her face. "You can't just go around telling everyone that you're going to be a god."

"Why not?" he asked her. "I am."

Konan faltered. She always did when Yahiko got serious. She believed him when they first met and even after all this time he was still the same, with dreams bigger than the world. Yahiko laid back at her silence, staring up like he could see his plans for world domination etched into the ceiling.

She faced the red-head instead of responding. "Hi. I'm Konan."

"Nagato," he replied warily.

Konan wondered what happened to him before Yahiko found him. It made her sad to see that he didn't trust them, even though they were all around the same age. She hated that the trust people were supposed to have in each other had been stripped away bit by bit until only suspicion and fear was left. If— _when_ —Yahiko became a god of peace, no one would have to live like this. Charity wouldn't be met with skepticism. Konan wanted to see a version of Amegakure where people didn't need a reason to be kind, and they could believe that not everything came with a price.

It was why she would follow Yahiko anywhere. To see her own dream become a reality.

"And who's the girl?" Konan asked. "Your sister?"

"Yeah, she's…" Nagato trailed off when he turned and saw the empty space next to him. He stood, "Oka?" He looked back and forth.

Konan kept the panic she heard in his voice to herself.

"Where'd you go?"

Konan helped him look as he moved around the hideout, his pupils small and frantic. She found Oka where she'd left Chibi. She was using him as a pillow, her tiny hands embedded in his fur.

"Aw, Chibi likes her."

Chibi was trying to stay still for her, while snapping at what was left of the paper dog. Konan pushed it towards him as Nagato hurried over, sagging in relief when he saw her. She stepped back as he bent and felt her arm, muttering that she was cold.

Konan sat once he made sure she was okay and went back over to Yahiko, asking about what he was expected to do. It was obvious she was sick from her shivering, the sweat beading on her forehead.

"Ah, I hope you get better," she said quietly. "Yahiko's okay, but it's nice not being the only girl anymore."

She heard Yahiko say, _"The same thing you've already been doing. Just more careful. You got sloppy the more you got away with it. If I could follow you, an adult can too."_

Konan couldn't tell how old she was. She was like Chibi. Smaller than she was supposed to be. "There are just some things I can't talk about with him, you know?" Her tone was cheerful, but the more Konan looked at her, the more she wondered how Oka had lived for so long in a village like this, where nobody helped anybody.

**平和**

I stretched a hand out, reaching until the tips of my fingers brushed against the smooth cave wall. I used the other as a makeshift pillow. The wall was bumpy and sharp, shining like it was wet even though it felt dry. I was here before. Or somewhere like it.

It's all blurry, like a dream that faded before I opened my eyes.

My fingers wandered to a part of the wall that was a lighter shade, like someone was coloring but forgot to finish the rest. It was pretty. Chibi squirmed against my back and I went still, listening to him whine and scratch at the ground until he stopped.

What he was dreaming of? Did dogs have bad dreams?

I couldn't steal like the others. Yahiko said I was still too little. I wasn't as fast as them. Not as strong. And I got tired too easily. But Naga didn't want to leave me behind. The hideout was nice and dry, but he didn't trust Yahiko and Konan all the way.

I fell asleep while they argued, and woke up here, as Konan told Naga that this cave was the closest one to the market, that I would be safe until they came back. She said that Chibi would watch over me. I remember Naga making me promise not to leave.

Then I curled up next to Chibi and went back to sleep.

I rolled over, burying my face in his fur. I heard the soft thump-thump of his heart, his chest slowly rising and falling. He was warm and soft. Just like a blanket. I wrapped my arms around him.

"Dream good dreams," I mumbled to him.

I listened to the soft pitter-patter of the rain until it lulled me to sleep.

**敵**

I was roused by a sweet, crispy smell.

"That was some good work you did today, Nagato," Yahiko's voice drifted in. I opened my eyes as he patted my brother on the back. He was carrying an old sack over his shoulder, heavy and bulging with the fruits of their labor.

"He's not your employee," Konan said, ducking into the cave.

"Okay, _our_ employee. Better?"

"No."

I sat up, keeping a hand tangled in Chibi's fur even as he shifted out from under me, shaking the feeling back into his paws.

"Well, he has to be someone's employee. He can't be his own employee." Yahiko said, stroking his chin.

"That's not what I meant," Konan sighed.

My vision of them was obscured as Naga sat in front of me and opened his own sack. "Here," he said. "I brought you something."

I leaned closer, watching as he pulled out something that looked like half an apple, except it was browner than the ones he usually brought and skewered with a wet stick. I sniffed it. It was strangely sweet.

Naga smiled at my expression, looking at the strange apple. "It's fried apple," he explained.

"You should've seen him," Yahiko said, shaking his head. "I told him it was too dangerous, that there was no way he would grab it without getting caught, but _no._ He had to get one for you, no matter what."

"You distracted the vendor for him," Konan deadpanned.

Yahiko laughed, scratching his cheek. "Well, what kind of boss would I be if I didn't help my employee out once in a while?"

"Try it, Oka," Naga said quietly.

I gave it another cautious sniff and took a small bite. My eyes widened. It was so good. I leapt at him and Naga twisted, holding his hand up higher as I bit at his fingers. I could see how hard he was trying not to laugh as I tried to yank his hand down.

"She must be really hungry," Yahiko said to Konan.

"No-" Naga started to answer but was cut off as I shoved my weight against his chest and he toppled. He did laugh then, and I grabbed the stick before he could recover, retreating to a corner of the cave.

"She's just a wolf." Naga said from the ground.

For all the effort I put into getting the fried apple, I was too tired to finish it in the end.

"Alright, who's carrying her back?" Yahiko asked as I fought to keep my eyes open.

"I will. I don't have as much stuff as you guys," Konan offered.

**戦争**

I blinked once. Twice.

From over Konan's shoulder, I saw that the path to the hideout was blocked by a field of bodies. I lifted my head, wiping away drool. I looked left, then right, but there was nothing but smoke and the dead all around us.

Konan shuddered, turning away from it.

"I hate war," Yahiko said through his teeth, hands curled into fists.

_Is this war?_

I'd only heard the word twice before. Once, when Yahiko found us. And again when I woke up in the middle of the night and Yahiko was teaching Naga about war. But no one had ever explained it to me.

_What did it mean to be 'at war'?_

"We have to go down there."

Konan took a step back. "No way, let's just go the long way."

I spotted Naga standing off to the side, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

_Why? Why was he sad?_

Yahiko took a deep breath. "They might have something we can use." He didn't look back, eyes searching the battlefield. "We need weapons. If we ever get caught in the middle they won't stop just because we're kids."

"Yahiko-"

"That's just the way it is," he said loudly, then jumped down.

"Wait-!" Konan frowned. "What do we do, Nagato?"

Naga stared at the bodies. Then he turned and locked eyes with me. "We have to protect each other," he said, then sat on the edge and slid down after Yahiko.

Konan closed her eyes. "Okay." She tightened her grip around me. "Hold on, Oka."

I looked down. "What about Chibi?"

Konan glanced at the dog at her feet. She scratched behind his ears. "We'll be right back. Stay here," she ordered him, voice shaking. She straightened, swallowed, and carefully made her way down.

I wrapped my arms around her neck as she wobbled, staring at Chibi until I couldn't see him anymore. "Konan, what does war mean?" I asked.

Konan sucked in, but before she could answer, I heard a soft squelch and felt her tense. I peeked over her shoulder. She had one foot deep in a red puddle. It was something I'd seen before. When mama and papa disappeared, there was red all over the floor.

Konan gagged, then abruptly put me down. She stumbled to the side and threw up.

_Why was everything so red in 'war'?_

I leaned closer to the puddle, staring at the reflection looking back at me. I crouched down as rain hit the surface, making her ripple and disappear. "What's war?" I asked when she came back, only for her to vanish again

I looked back, but Konan was still throwing up.

_Why was she so sick?_

I could see Yahiko halfway across the field, rummaging through the pockets of a body. Naga was closer, stuffing an abandoned kunai in his pouch. The closest body to me was a woman wearing a red jacket. After making sure Konan was still occupied, I went over to her. Maybe I couldn't steal, but I could help with this.

The ground around her was charred. Grass cracked under my feet. She was facedown. Her clothes were ripped and melted, to the point where I could see some of the bone in her leg. Her eyes were still open.

"Are you war?" I asked, standing over her.

She didn't answer.

I turned around. Yahiko had moved onto another body. His hands were red. Naga's pouch looked fuller than before. I sat and patted the woman down like Yahiko was doing. She looked shocked at her death, like she couldn't believe it.

_Was she really dead?_

I didn't know. I dug through her pockets and patted down what was left of her clothes, but I didn't find anything. My legs were covered in soot when I stood up again. I tried to brush it off, but it only got on my fingers. Was this what war felt like? Sticky and black and it got everywhere? I held out my hands, asking the rain to wash it away.

I was a few feet away from another body—turned on its side so I couldn't see the face—when someone grabbed my wrist. I looked down. A man wearing a gray jacket stared back, red dribbling from his mouth. He had one eye closed, the skin around it red. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go.

"You," he gasped. "I remember you-" He coughed so hard it made his body rattle.

_They weren't dead._

"It makes me happy, you know," he wheezed, falling onto his back. His grip slackened, and I saw a hole in his middle. "That Ame gave you a chance in the end, even when I thought…" Red covered my feet. "Even when I gave up." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oka!"

I turned, just as I was yanked away from him. His hand hit the ground and he didn't move again. Naga blocked my view as he put me down, patting my arms and legs. "You're okay?"

I nodded. "I'm okay, Naga."

He frowned, looking around, "Where's Konan? She was supposed to be with you."

I pointed. Konan was sitting where I'd left her, her back to the field. She was leaning down, squeezing Chibi.

Naga grabbed my hand, his eyes going wide at the black marks. He sighed. "I wanted to protect you from this. Pain, death, war. I don't want you to hurt like I do, Oka."

I pulled my hand out of his grip and wiped a tear off his cheek. "Don't be sad, Naga."

He hugged me instead of answering.

**友達**

"Wait," Yahiko said, eyes narrowing. "Something's wrong."

Naga stopped behind him. I could feel his apprehension in the way his shoulders rose as he looked around the market, his suddenly tight grip around me.

Konan paused in the middle of feeding Chibi stale bread. "There's no one here," she frowned.

I glanced around without lifting my head. The stalls were abandoned. Some had tarps haphazardly tossed over them, but most were left open, free for the taking. There were no mean-faced vendors glaring at us for walking too close, no customers begging to know when the next shipment of fruit or meat would arrive. I could still see smoke coming from behind one of the stalls, along with the faint smell of something burning.

But Konan was wrong. There was someone. A man in a gray jacket stood on a roof, staring at something in the distance.

Yahiko saw him too. "Let's go back," he said quickly, turning around.

Naga and Konan followed suit, running after Yahiko.

I was asleep before we left the market, but it was only a little later that I was woken up by the ground violently shaking. I saw Yahiko stumble, throwing his arms out to keep his balance. Konan tumbled backwards with a sharp cry. Chibi whimpered, tail between his legs. Naga dropped to his knees, grunting as he fought to stay upright.

Then just as abruptly, the ground stilled.

"Naga?" I asked him.

"I'm okay," he whispered as he got up, but he wasn't. The knees of his pants were red.

"Almost there!" Yahiko shouted, beckoning us forward as he took off.

I held on as Naga ran after him, Konan on his heels with Chibi cowering in her arms. She shot me a smile, even though her eyes were wide and scared.

"Not this way," Yahiko said suddenly, backing up. "Go back that way. We've gotta find another-"

A crash interrupted him, and Yahiko threw up his hands as we were showered with dirt. I hid in Naga's shoulder until it was over. When I looked up again, a giant salamander towered over us, facing the other way. My eyes widened. It was bigger than anything I'd ever seen.

"The other way is still blocked," Konan told him, shaking dirt out of her hair.

Yahiko stared at it, then shook his head. "This way." He backtracked, squeezing through a narrow alleyway between two crumbling buildings.

I lost sight of the salamander until we were on the other side. Purple mist coated the area in front of it. I heard a scream, and a man in a green jacket was tossed in the air and swallowed whole.

"Don't look, Oka," Naga murmured.

_Is this what war means?_

"We just gotta stay low," Yahiko whispered, dropping to his knees as he crawled forward.

The ground shuddered and Naga froze, staring up as the salamander split open the ground and burrowed into the dirt. The ground cracked and bulged as it moved. The shaking started again, worse than before. Yahiko fell. Konan screamed. Naga was thrown to the ground. He lost his grip and I fell hard, the sky and ground becoming one for a second as I rolled across the dirt.

The world finally stopped spinning as I came to a stop on my stomach. The back of my head hurt, and something dripped from my ear.

 _Water,_ I thought. But that was silly. Why would water be coming from my ear?

Chibi licked my cheek. He wanted me to get up, but I couldn't focus. A second Chibi stood next to him when I looked up, and they kept blurring together and making me dizzy. Were there always two Chibi's?

One of the Chibi's barked, yanking on my sleeve. I was too tired to move. I laid my cheek against the ground. We could play later, when my head wasn't so fuzzy.

I looked at my hand, turning it back and forth. I had too many fingers, but that was okay. I closed my eyes.

"Oka!" The yell was distant, coming from somewhere far away.

Chibi tugged harder, whining, but it was muffled and subdued like my ears were filled with cotton. I smiled, brushing my fingers through his fur. Then I heard a soft _thunk._

I opened my eyes. A kunai was lodged in the dirt a few feet away. It had a scrap of paper with weird markings on it. And the paper was on fire.

"Oka!" It was louder this time, panicked and afraid.

A weight dropped on top of me, and my vision went black as my head hit the ground, a second before everything turned a brilliant white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 平和 - Peace, 敵 - Enemies, 戦争 - War, 友達 - Friends


	5. A Girl Named Oka - Part 2

"The never-ending sadness that I live with

A flavorless insanity I can't evade

I see that it's more than I can chew

But I alone hold on to all the pain I can't erase."

-Fixer, Kuraiinu

* * *

I was floating.

No, that wasn't right. I could feel the soft pull of the water, the current pushing me back and forth as my body was dragged deeper into its depths.

I was sinking.

I sank like a lead balloon. My chest was filled with water, and my lungs had long ago given up on breathing. My heart though, I could still feel it. The rest of my body was numb as I fell further away from the surface, the light above me dimming. Kelp circled me, helping to pull me down to the sea floor.

My heart was still going. Continuing its fruitless effort to pump blood and oxygen to the parts of my body that needed it most, fighting to filter out all the water.

I stared up. If I just moved my arms, kicked my legs a little, I could make it back to the surface. It would be easy. It had been just as easy to hold my breath and stop kicking. To slip under the surface like I was just another piece of debris in an ocean of trash.

I exhaled, watching the last of my oxygen float up to the surface. I closed my eyes.

 _Just give up,_ I told my heart. _You can't save me._

It struggled, of course. Beating faster, more ferociously, struggling as hard as it could to keep me alive. But it needed oxygen. And that was something I refused to give it. I could feel it slowing, finally realizing it was a losing battle. I listened to my heart until it stopped, the steady _lub-dub_ the last sound I would ever hear.

**秋**

"I had a bad dream, Naga," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

I looked up, only to be met with hair that was orange instead of red.

"Finally awake, eh?" Yahiko asked, shooting me a small smile.

My head throbbed. I leaned against his shoulder. "What happened to the salamander?"

"Man, I can't believe you slept through everything," Yahiko said with a shake of his head. "Where do I start? We met these three shinobi who survived all the fighting. One of them was a jerk who said we would be better off dead, but the other two were okay." He freed a hand to reach into the pouch tied to his hip, pulling out a handful of broken crackers. "They couldn't stay, but they gave us these. I'm going to find them again. And I'll make them teach us how to fight."

I was too tired to ask about the salamander again. "Where's Naga?"

"Huh? He's back there." Yahiko turned slightly and I saw him off to the side, body angled away from us. His head was down, hair covering most of his face. I tried to turn more but moving too much made my vision swim.

"Okay," I murmured, closing my eyes.

"How can you be happy right now?" Konan asked quietly.

Yahiko stopped.

"Chibi's gone, but all you're talking about is those three."

I blinked at her empty arms. She ducked away from my searching gaze, wrapping her arms around herself. The world swayed dangerously when I leaned back, looking for Chibi around her, but he wasn't there either.

"Chibi?" I mumbled.

"I'm not happy," Yahiko said.

"You're not sad either," Konan muttered.

Yahiko stared at her, then up at the sky. "Crying won't change anything," he said. "The only way to change things is to force them to change. Just wait a little longer, Konan. I'm going to get strong. Strong enough to make sure there aren't anymore 'Chibi's'."

My head was pounding. "I want to see him."

Konan looked away. "You can't, Oka. He's not here anymore."

"Where did he go?"

Yahiko grimaced.

"He's dead," Konan said loudly.

"We were going to tell you when we got back," Yahiko added, kicking a rock. It rolled across the ground and landed in a puddle with a soft splash.

The salamander. It made the ground shake. Chibi was pulling on my shirt. I looked at the bite marks on my sleeve. Something landed next to us. Then what? I sagged against Yahiko, exhausted. It felt like everything was spinning.

"Liars," I mumbled, because Chibi couldn't be dead. Dead, like the people in the field? Or dead like the men who were swallowed whole by the salamander?

"It's true," Yahiko said. "I wanted to bring him back with us, but there wasn't much left."

Dead like the men who were swallowed by the salamander. I wouldn't find his body. And he wouldn't get back up when I passed by. "Why?" I asked him.

_Why did the war take Chibi?_

Konan shuddered, fists pressed against her eyes. "I wish I didn't see what he looked like after." She sniffed hard. Then there was a loud thud _._

Yahiko turned. His eyes widened. Naga was face down on the ground, red pooling beneath him. "Nagato!" He ran, dropping down beside him.

"What happened?" Konan asked, helping me down as Yahiko grabbed Naga's arm and carefully rolled him over.

Yahiko inhaled. Konan covered her mouth, eyes wide. The left half of Naga's body was covered in burns. His face was swollen and a dark, blistering red. But it was worse when I looked down. Yahiko tugged on Naga's collar and I saw blackened skin for a second before Yahiko jerked his hand back. Naga's clothes were soaked red.

"Naga?" I touched his hand, waiting for him to tell me he was okay like always, but he didn't. I pulled back, and my fingers were red. I stared at them, long after the rain washed it off.

"Damn it!" Yahiko punched the ground, ducking his head. "Why'd you have to go and lie, Nagato? You said you were okay. You told us over and over and _over_ that you didn't get hurt too bad. You didn't have to hide it." He sat back and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "We gotta get him back to the hideout. I'll take him, and you carry Oka."

_So much red._

Konan stared at Naga. "What do we do?" She stood as Yahiko grunted, tugging Naga's arm over his shoulder. "He needs help. _Real_ help."

"I know," Yahiko said. "I've got a plan."

I looked at all the red Naga left behind through my fingers.

"Okay. Let's go, Oka." Konan took my hand and forced me to my feet.

**損失**

I sat next to Yahiko, helping him put soft, lumpy fruit in a straw basket. My fingers dented the skin of a green one as I picked it up. Most of the food we had left was squishy on the outside and brown on the inside. Konan went out earlier, but she said that there wasn't anything left of the market.

One of the buildings fell, she'd said.

"You're not going alone, Yahiko. I'm going too."

Yahiko shook his head without looking, "You gotta look after Nagato while I'm gone. Besides, I'll be back before you know it. I'm going to find those three and bring them back here by tomorrow, promise."

I put the fruit in the basket and grabbed another one—a soggy, pruning apple.

Yahiko tied a small sheet of wood over the top once it was full. Then he pulled the straps over his shoulders and stood. I watched him smile, though his eyes were sad. "I'll look out for any apples while I'm out there. Fresh ones." He hopped over the barrier and held up a hand. "See you later, Konan."

"I'll be mad if you die!" she yelled after him.

His laugh echoed back to us, "Can't die yet. I'm still not a god."

Once I was sure he was gone, I crawled over to Konan. She was kneeling next to Naga. She put a wet, torn cloth over his forehead with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. I put a hand flat against his cheek, the same way he always felt my forehead. He was burning up. His breathing was wet and raspy, like he had water in his throat.

"Is Naga going to die?" I asked her.

Konan looked startled. She smiled, squeezing her hands together in her lap. "Of course not. Yahiko will find those guys and they're going to fix him."

I laid down and leaned against Naga's chest, watching his face twist in pain. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He coughed, and I could hear the rattle in his lungs.

"Why does war hurt so much?" I asked.

I missed Chibi. I missed the way he would curl up with me when I was tired, how he looked like he was smiling when his tongue was hanging out. I even missed his bad dreams. I wanted to hug him and pretend that Naga was okay, but I couldn't.

Before I knew it, I was crying.

Konan patted my shoulder. "It's okay to cry. I miss him too."

I fell asleep, dreaming of the girl that was lost to the sea and the dog that would've pulled her out and given her a reason to live.

**塩水**

"Alright brat, who is it that needs my help?"

I stirred at the voice, sitting up. A woman ducked into the entrance of the hideout, her blond hair tied into twin tails. She gave the barrier a brief, unimpressed glance before her eyes rose, searching the room. She looked over the waterlogged crates and deflated sacks scattered around, then stopped on me. Her eyes narrowed for a second before she moved onto Konan, then Naga. Her lips pulled into a deep frown.

A man with even longer white hair followed her, stroking his chin as he took in his surroundings. And behind him-

"You took longer than a day," Konan said.

Yahiko grinned, lacing his hands behind his head. "It took a lot longer to convince these guys than I thought it would, but I still did it, didn't I?"

Konan returned his smile.

The woman strode forward and knelt beside Naga without a word. She inspected his face, her mouth twisting into a thin line. She moved her hands over his chest, and my eyes widened when her palms started to glow green.

"Hmm," the white-haired man nodded to himself, looking Konan up and down. "I can already see that you're going to grow up into a beautiful young woman."

The woman shot him a fierce glare. "Quiet, you. I can't concentrate with you hitting on little girls."

"What? I wasn't hitting on her. It was a compliment-"

Her eyes narrowed, and the man paled, holding his hands up.

I inched closer, staring at her glowing hands. I'd never seen glowing hands before. "Will Naga be okay?"

The woman sighed. "Let me work," she said.

I sat back, watching her mutter to herself as she moved down to his stomach. The glow faded, and she tugged his shirt off. Naga twisted, a gargled scream tearing out of his throat as some of his skin came off with it.

"You and you," the woman looked at Konan, then Yahiko, "Hold him down."

It was bad. Even Yahiko looked sick as he pinned Naga's right arm, Konan on his left. His left side was turning red again, the skin peeling and yellow. The area around it was shriveled. There were holes where the burns didn't heal properly.

The woman barely looked at his wounds before tugging off his pants. Naga didn't react that time, head lolling to the side.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is going to take a while, Jiraya."

"Hm?" Jiraya paused in the middle of rummaging through our stolen goods. "Take as long as you need. As long as I get to hang around a bunch of pretty ladies then I'm just fine-"

He toppled over as a crate abruptly smashed into his face.

"Ignore him," the woman said, cracking her knuckles. She stretched her fingers, hands glowing again as she pressed her palms against Naga's chest. His arm spasmed.

"What's wrong with him?" Yahiko asked.

"He has a bad infection. Fluid in his lungs," she said tersely. "And he'll die if I don't concentrate on what I'm doing."

I slipped a hand between them and grabbed Naga's fingers. _You'll be okay,_ I thought.

**悲しみ**

"Here, Oka. You should eat."

I blinked at Yahiko, then the apple he held out. I was tired, even though I just woke up. I could see a tiny version of me reflected on the surface of the apple, distorting the more he moved his hand.

"What's wrong? I promised you a fresh apple, right?"

I grasped at it but couldn't reach all the way, so Yahiko lowered his arm. It was hard and cold. Naga was always the one to bring me apples. I hugged it to my chest and closed my eyes.

"What happened to him?" the woman asked. She said her name was Tsunade.

"A paper bomb," Yahiko said.

"We got too close to the fighting. Nagato was the only one who saw it," Konan quietly added.

"That's why you've gotta help us get stronger. So this never happens again."

"You've got quite the ambition, eh?" Jiraya asked. "But let's just focus on your friend first, alright?"

"I am focusing on him," I heard dirt crunch under Yahiko's heel as he turned. "He was only hurt because we're weak and slow. We have weapons, but they're no good to us since we don't know how to use them. We can't defend ourselves. We can't put up a fight. That's why you need to train us. So we can become strong enough to end this war."

Jiraya whistled, "Those are some big dreams, kid. It won't be as easy as you think it is, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Yahiko said. "I'll do it."

"And how do you expect to do that? A lot of people have tried and failed."

"With my friends," Yahiko answered. "They'll help me become a god of peace. Then I'll free everyone from the burden of war."

Jiraya was quiet for a long while. "Let's talk about this in the morning, yeah?" He yawned, loud and exaggerated. "It's too late to make a decision like that now."

"Why are you helping us?" Konan spoke up.

"What kind of medic-nin would I be if I ignored a dying child just because they were from a different village? That blood would be on my hands," she snorted. "We're not even at war with Ame. If I didn't help, what would make me any different from all the other shinobi that come here dragging this village into a battle it has nothing to do with?"

 _Shi-no-bi,_ I recited, committing the word to memory.

"What if it was a trap?" Konan asked.

"Then I'd kick the ass of the adult who dared to use a child like that. Anything else?" she asked, her tone making it clear she was done answering questions.

Jiraya coughed lightly, "That was almost treasonous, Tsuna."

"Oh, shove it up your ass," Tsunade hissed back at him.

**スタンド**

I reached out, but stopped short of touching Naga. My fingers hovered over his cheek. It wasn't swollen anymore. His skin was better too. Bright pink instead of angry red. I glanced up at Tsunade. She let me watch, if I didn't touch him.

Sweat covered her forehead, her breathing just slightly uneven. Her hands were glowing over his left leg, which was still covered in pockets of yellow.

"What's that?"

Tsunade looked at me, so I pointed at her hands. She looked surprised, then a little sad. "Chakra."

_Chak-ra._

"And it's making Naga better?"

"It is."

Tsunade was in a good mood today. If she didn't want to talk, she would've said so. I watched her use chakra, and after a while the yellow started to fade.

"Who are you to him?" Tsunade abruptly asked.

"Sister," I answered, slow and careful. It had been a long time since I used that word. I wasn't sure if I pronounced it right.

Tsunade nodded to Konan, "And them? Are they your family too?"

"No," Konan said for me.

At the same time, Yahiko gave the opposite answer.

"Well, they're my best friends," he admitted after a quick glance at Konan. "But Oka's the closest thing I have to a little sister. And who said family had to be the people you're related to, anyway?" he grumbled.

Tsunade sat back, the chakra vanishing. "I'm taking a break," she announced. "I could really use some sake right about now," she sighed.

"How much longer?" Jiraya asked.

"Until I'm done. Go back and annoy Orochimaru if you're bored," Tsunade answered with a scoff.

"And miss out on this view-?" Jiraya received a swift sack to the chest before he could finish. A few bruised oranges rolled out and made a mess on the floor.

Konan made a noise of dismay.

Tsunade paused at the wasted food, regret flashing in her eyes. She shook her head and turned her stare on me. "You. Come here."

I blinked but obeyed, pushing off the ground. I was a little dizzy as I moved to stand in front of her but managed to stay still as she grabbed my arm. She felt my forehead with her other hand. Looking up, I could see a faint glow. Her chakra tickled.

"Just as I thought." She pulled back. "You have fevers? Chills?"

I nodded. I knew I had fevers because Naga said so. But I didn't know what 'chills' meant.

"Something wrong?" Yahiko asked, hopping off the crate he'd been sitting on.

"You have too much chakra," Tsunade said, flat out ignoring him. She tapped my chest. "To be more specific, too much spiritual chakra. I felt it the first time I saw you, but I couldn't believe it was coming from such a tiny brat. For most people, it takes years and years of practice and meditation to build up this much."

I tilted my head. "Spiritual chakra?"

"You were unlucky enough to be born with it," Tsunade went on as if I didn't speak. "No wonder you spend all your time sleeping and being sick," she snorted. "Your body is not meant to hold the amount of spiritual chakra you have. Not without intense training."

She poked my stomach next. "Right now, you're not producing enough physical chakra to balance it out. Not by a long shot. That's why your body keeps breaking down. You're not strong enough to keep all that spiritual chakra contained. It's overflowing from your chakra network. Once you start producing more physical chakra, the fevers and fatigue will lessen."

She took one look at my blank expression and sighed, "You might not understand it now, but you will one day. There won't be anyone to tell you once I'm gone, so it's better you know now. Don't forget it." She waved me away. "Oh, and you have a mild concussion."

Yahiko threw up his hands. "See? This is why you should train us. I didn't understand any of that."

I stared at my hands. Was spiritual chakra green too? Or was it a different color? How many colors of chakra were there?

I didn't notice Jiraya in the back, watching me with keen eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 秋 - Fall, 損失 - Loss, 塩水 - Saltwater, 悲しみ - Sorrow, スタンド - Stand


	6. A Girl Named Oka - Part 3

"Crawling, Crawling,

Out Tonight and See,

Everyone Up Scrambling to the Beat,

Easy, Easy

Envy All You Need,

Dancing on Without a Clue,

She's Been A Very Blind Girl."

-Hitorinbo Envy, Jubyphonic

* * *

I pressed my thumb against the dirt, drawing a replica of Chibi between my legs while Konan sat behind me, twisting my hair into a braid.

"Ah, your hair is so long, Oka. I wish mine was this long," Konan said.

I poked dots where his eyes were supposed to be and drew triangles for ears. "I miss Chibi," I said, a quiet, painful ache in my chest. I pressed a hand over my heart, but it was hurting inside, where I couldn't reach.

Konan faltered, and my hair fell around my shoulders like a curtain. "I do too," she said. "But that's why we're helping Yahiko become a god of peace, remember? To make a world where there are no more Chibi's, like he said."

I nodded, but the ache didn't go away.

Konan twirled a strand of my hair around her finger. "I'm sorry, Oka," she murmured.

"Why?" I looked back, searching for the reason for her apology.

Konan gave me a small, sad smile. "I was in charge of watching you," she explained, lifting her hair-twined finger. "Before the salamander. Back at that field. I saw that guy grab you, but I froze. He could've hurt you." She shook the hair away and re-started the braid. "I never said sorry."

She turned my head, and I drew a smile in the dirt with my nail. Chibi would've like it, I think.

"It reminded me of something bad that happened to my mom and dad," Konan went on, shuddering. "They left to fight, when I was little."

I heard her sniff.

It had been a long time since I thought of Mama and Papa. The ache worsened into a sharp, pulsing pain. They were like Chibi, or the people that were swallowed by the salamander. Not maybe-dead, but _dead_ dead _._ Why else would they have left us all alone? Why else would thinking about them hurt so much?

"Little- _er,_ " Konan corrected with a shaky smile. "They said not to look for them if they didn't come back, but I did. I found them in a place like that, and I ran away."

I scrubbed away the image of Chibi. I didn't remember much of Mama. Her hair was red, like Naga's, but brighter, curlier. Her voice always made me feel warm. Papa had big hands. One could fit over my whole head.

"I'll say sorry to Naga too, when he wakes up," Konan said.

I felt something slide down my cheek and brushed my hand against it, staring when I saw that my fingers were wet. I wasn't sad. Was I?

Tsunade was bent over Naga, Jiraya crouched beside her. I could hear them whispering to each other.

I looked at my fingers again. _This was war,_ I realized.

It wasn't the salamander ripping the ground apart. It wasn't a field of the dead. It was the way Konan's hands shook, the desperation that drove Naga to steal, the deep hurt of being left behind.

"I'll tell him for you," I said, drawing a kunai in the dirt.

I would learn to fight, too. I would help Yahiko become a god.

**男の子**

I smoothed a bandage over Naga's cheek, mimicking the way Tsunade had put one over his shoulder. She said it had medicine on it that would help him heal faster.

Yahiko sat beside me, tossing a grapefruit up and down. It was orange-brown, caved in and wrinkly. He was leaning back, staring at the roof. It made a wet slap each time he caught it.

"I want to steal," I told him. "I'm big enough now."

Yahiko hummed. "I don't know," he said. "You're still pretty little."

"I'll be a good em-ploy-ee," I insisted, sounding out the word as best I could. "I'll steal lots of meat."

Yahiko laughed, sitting up. He held the grapefruit in his lap, peeling the skin off with a finger. "Why do you want to steal all of a sudden?"

"So you can become a god faster," I said, facing him.

Yahiko pulled out a mushy, only slightly brown piece and held it out.

I nibbled on it as he spoke, "We can't steal the way we used to. A lot of stored fruit was destroyed during the attack." He scratched out another piece and popped it in his mouth. "No one is selling food anymore, and there won't be any coming in for a while. It's too dangerous."

"No food?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"Nope. But you don't have to worry. I'll think of something," he said, holding out another piece. He grinned. "What kind of boss would I be if I let my employees starve?"

It was slippery and sticky in my grip. "I hate war," I declared.

Yahiko nodded, "I'll start here, with the rain. I'll make it stop."

"Will the sun come out?" I asked. I remembered the book with the drawing of the sun. It was supposed to be in places where it didn't rain.

"Yep. All the clouds will go away too. It'll be like a brand-new place, where nobody has to die because of war."

I tried to imagine it. It would be warm all the time, and there would be lots of food for everyone.

"We'll have to rename it," Yahiko said, stroking his chin. "We won't be able to call it 'Ame' anymore."

"I missed it," Naga croaked, weak and raspy.

"It's about time," Yahiko said, giving him a grin, "You can't keep sleeping all the time, Nagato. We've got work to do."

"I tried," Naga murmured. "I tried so hard to stay awake."

"Naga?" I leaned closer. "You okay?"

Naga winced as he turned his head, lifting a hand to touch the bandage on his face.

"No, don't!" Yahiko grabbed his wrist. "Don't touch it. It's still healing."

Naga focused on him, seeing him for the first time. He looked past him, at me. "I wanted to get something," he said. "For your birthday. But I missed it."

I didn't know what he meant. I smiled anyway. "Don't be sad, Naga. It's o-kay."

"I won't know when it is now. It was tomorrow, but it's not the same day. It'll be so long from now," he trembled.

"Tomorrow?" Yahiko repeated. "You mean the day after the attack?"

"Yeah," Naga sniffed. "It feels like a long time ago, now."

Yahiko nodded. "I'll ask around," he said. "Find out what day it was."

Naga's eyes widened.

"Come on, don't look at me like that," Yahiko said, sheepish. He looked away. "It's no big deal. What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't know my little sister's birthday?"

"Right," Naga said, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

I tilted my head back when I heard footsteps and saw Tsunade standing in front of the barrier, hands on her hips. "Listen up brats," she said, eyeing us, then Konan, who was surrounded by paper flowers.

"Jiraya and I agreed to train you, starting first thing tomorrow," she announced.

"You get your wish, kid. I hope you're happy," Jiraya drawled.

Yahiko threw his hands up and cheered.

"And who knows? Maybe you _will_ end the war one day. It would make a good book," he mused.

"We were waiting for you to wake up before making a decision," Tsunade said to Naga. "Because I'm going to teach you medical ninjutsu. You need to learn to take care of those scars. The skin is still sensitive and prone to infection. It could take months before you have full mobility again and they'll never go away completely, but you don't have to be held back by them, either."

"Jiraya will train the rest of you," Tsunade said with a dismissive wave. "Let's go."

"All our stuff…" Naga trailed off.

"What? You mean the rotten food? Leave it."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"A safehouse," she said curtly. "You can stay there until we say otherwise."

"What about Nagato? He can't move," Konan said.

"I've got him," Yahiko said, bending to grab Naga's arm.

Naga squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering as he was forced to sit up.

I touched his good arm. He was warm, not feverish.

"I'm okay," Naga said again.

"No," Tsunade said. "He's not ready to move like that. Jiraya will carry him."

"Jiraya will what?" He shivered when he made eye contact with Tsunade, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I, the great toad sage, the gallant, strongest of the three newly minted sanin-"

"Enough show-boating," Tsunade growled.

"Eh? But you know you love it," he winked as he took Naga from Yahiko.

I frowned as Naga cried out.

"I'll be careful," he said to Tsunade, then hopped over the barrier.

Yahiko offered me his hand, "Or do you want to be carried instead?"

"I'm too big to be carried," I decided.

"You're in a rebellious phase, hm? Konan was in one a little while ago," he said, thoughtful as he rubbed his chin. "She wouldn't eat green fruit. At all."

"That wasn't a phase," Konan retorted, turning red.

"Then what was it?" Yahiko asked, eyebrow raised.

Konan became redder. She picked up a paper flower and threw it at him.

I watched it flutter to the ground a foot in front of her.

"What about the time you would only sleep out in the rain?" she asked.

"Ah, ah. It's rude to talk about other people, Konan," Yahiko said sagely.

Konan spluttered. She shoved him as she went past, refusing to look at him.

"Is she mad?" I asked, taking his hand.

"No. She's in another phase, probably."

"Yahiko!"

**誰**

I woke up to familiar voices, coming from somewhere behind me.

"You have to teach us to fish," Yahiko insisted.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Naga was on the floor next to me, a folded rag over his forehead. It was cold to the touch. His cheek was hot. He had a fever again.

"Let's stick with one thing at a time," Jiraya said. "How am I supposed to have any time to see if this place has any decent bathhouses if I'm spending every second of the day teaching the four of you?"

I heard a loud thump and glanced over as Jiraya unwrapped the biggest fish I'd ever seen. Faint trails of smoke drifted off it. My mouth watered. It was cooked meat.

"Where's Tsunade?" Konan asked. She was sitting in front of the small table, eyes on the fish as Jiraya stepped away.

I inched closer. My stomach growled, and I squeezed the front of my shirt. The smell filled my head and I felt dizzy with hunger.

"She went off in search of a bar," he explained. "Fixing your friend took a lot out of her, but you shouldn't worry. You're in the hands of Jiraya the Sanin." He hooked a thumb at himself with a grin.

"Heya, Oka," Yahiko waved from the counter he sat on.

"Sanin?" Konan asked.

I pointed at the fish, uncertain and asking for permission.

"Yes, you can have it," Jiraya answered for him. "I caught it for the four of you, after all."

He gave Konan a wry smile. "It was a fancy way for the leader here to congratulate us on the honor of not dying."

I brightened, running to the table. I dropped to my knees and grabbed a handful of meat with my bare hands, shoving it all in my mouth.

Konan covered her mouth to hide her giggle, leaning out of the way of the shrapnel.

"Watch out for bones," Jiraya said weakly.

I ripped off another handful, swallowing as I picked up bits I'd dropped on the floor.

"Does she always eat like that?" Jiraya asked, somewhere between awed and disturbed.

Konan peeled off a piece as Yahiko hopped off the counter. "She's hungry," he said with a shrug. "We all are. There isn't a right way to eat when you live like we do."

"It's really good," Konan said as Yahiko sat on the other side of the table.

He tore off a strip but didn't eat it. His gaze was distant.

"Yahiko?" she asked.

"I started thinking of all the street kids who won't get to eat because all the food is gone," he murmured, then laughed a little when Konan frowned. He scratched his cheek. "The things we have to change. It's a long list. I think about it all the time."

"I get it," she said. "But you can't become strong enough to do that if you don't eat."

"You're right," Yahiko nodded, chewing on his strip. "When did you start sounding so grown-up?"

"I've always been grown-up," she protested.

Yahiko made a noise of disagreement. "Grown-ups don't eat fruit by color," he pointed out.

"I thought that it was rude to talk about other people, _Yahiko._ "

"That rule doesn't exist anymore."

"Huh? Why not?"

"I made it up, so I un-made it."

I watched them, grease on my hands and bits of fish stuck under my nails.

"That's not how rules work," Konan deadpanned.

"It is if you're the one making the rules."

"You won't care if I tell Oka about the time you lost all of our food in a bet with—"

"Let's agree to disagree," Yahiko interrupted her. He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. "Had enough, Oka?"

I answered him by grabbing another handful and retreating to a corner.

"We should save the rest for Nagato."

Konan paused. She tore her gaze away from the fish and got up. "Okay."

Yahiko glanced at me again. "No more, okay?"

I bared my teeth at him, eyes narrowed.

Yahiko looked away. He reconsidered his request as Konan giggled. "You can finish that half," he amended. "But leave that side for Nagato."

I thought it over, looking at the squished ball of meat in my palm. I padded back to the table.

Yahiko tapped his chin. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

Konan laughed and walked away from him.

"Konan? Help me out here!"

**意志**

I used Naga's right leg as a pillow, watching him practice the exercises Tsunade taught him to help get his mobility back to the way it used to be. I felt him shudder as he clenched and unclenched his scarred hand, breathing hard.

I touched his other arm, but he didn't have a fever anymore.

"I'll work on getting stronger," he murmured. "So you don't have to worry about me like this anymore."

"I don't like it when you have fevers," I said.

"Me neither." He cringed when he tried to stretch his hand out, shuddering again.

I yawned. Konan and Yahiko sat out in the rain, eyes closed, hands folded in their laps.

"You shouldn't try to push yourself as hard as them, Oka," Naga said, massaging his wrist. " _I_ don't like it when you tire yourself out. You're still little."

"Am not," I said. I wanted to keep trying to feel my chakra, but I couldn't stay awake, no matter how hard I tried.

Naga patted my head. "Don't try to grow up too fast. Being little is better than being a grown-up."

"It's not," I grumbled.

"I felt it!" Yahiko jumped up. His eyes were bright. "What's next?"

Tsunade flicked his forehead and he tumbled over. "Not so fast, brat," she said. "You can't learn to run before you know how to crawl. Feeling it won't cut it. You have to learn to manipulate it to go where you want it to, _then_ mold it into an elemental nature."

"That would make a good quote for my book," Jiraya murmured. He sat back on the porch, hands linked behind his head.

Yahiko sat up. "Yeah, but I'm still one step closer, right?"

Tsunade stared at him.

Jiraya shook his head and said, "You've got charisma, kid. I'll give you that."

**される 神**

"Now that you've got the basics down, we'll start on water-walking," Tsunade said, hands on her hips. "I expect it to be mastered by the end of the week. Any objections?"

Jiraya coughed. "They just learned what chakra is _,_ Tsuna. Give them a break."

I sat at the edge of a pond, drawing circles in the water with the tip of my finger. "I know it now," I said softly, pulling back just long enough for my reflection to appear. "What it means. War," I told her.

"We don't have time to wait around until they're ready," Tsunade said through her teeth. "The war is still going on, in case you forgot. I agreed to train the brats, but I'm not spending the rest of my life in this hellhole. There are people waiting for me back home."

Jiraya shook his head. "And what about that one?" he asked, hooking a thumb at Naga.

Naga sat cross-legged off to the side, eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to feel his chakra. The left side of his body was covered in special bandages to protect his still-sensitive skin from the rain.

"You think he can master medical-ninjutsu in two months?"

Tsunade looked at him, her lips thinning. She turned and strode out onto the surface of the lake without a word, the soles of her feet coated in a bright blue hue.

The other me rippled violently and disappeared. It was chakra, I knew, but not the same chakra as before. The chakra she used to heal Naga— _medical ninjutsu_ —was green.

Konan gasped.

"A week, huh?" Yahiko mused, crouched beside me. "That's too long. I'm going to master it today."

Jiraya laughed. "There's ambition, and then there's this kid."

"He will," I said, pushing myself up.

Yahiko smiled. "You don't have to believe me," he said to Jiraya. "I'll just prove you wrong."

Jiraya turned his gaze to the sky. He opened his mouth, closed it. "You remind me of an old student of mine," was all he said.

"Listen up, because I'm only going to explain this once," Tsunade spoke before Yahiko could. "Channel a stream of chakra to the bottom of your feet. Too much and not only are you wasting chakra, but the surface will boil. Too little and the water won't hold you. Aim for the latter. If you push too much chakra to your feet at once, you could burn yourself with it."

Yahiko shut his eyes, clasping his hands together.

"The stream of chakra has to be constantly flowing around your feet. If the water becomes calmer or turbulent, you have to be able to change the amount of chakra you're producing at any moment to match it or you'll fall in. Understand?"

Konan frowned at the pond. "I think so," she said.

Tsunade nodded once, walked back onto land, and went over to Naga.

Yahiko dropped his hands. A faint glow leaked out from under his feet. He took a step forward and fell straight down.

Konan giggled as he came up spluttering, then shrieked as he spit water at her.

I stared at my hands. _Stream of chakra. Too much. Too little._ I didn't understand all of what she said, but I knew I needed to tell my chakra to go to my feet. I frowned. "Go," I sternly ordered it.

"Not like that," Yahiko said as he dragged himself out of the pond.

I blinked at him.

He wrung water out of his shirt. "What did your chakra feel like yesterday?"

Konan took a step forward. She yelped as the water bubbled and steamed beneath her. With an encouraging push from Yahiko, she tipped over, shouting as she smacked the surface.

I looked at my hands again. _Honey,_ was my first thought. It felt thick and heavy and sticky. I tilted my head, "Yahiko, what does honey taste like?"

It was his turn to blink. "I dunno," he said. "I've never had it. But when we stop the rain, we could have all kinds of stuff brought here. It won't be just old fruit and half-expired meat. We could all have honey, then."

I stared up, and droplets pattered against my forehead and cheeks. "When the rain stops," I quietly agreed.

"What was that for?" Konan asked as she surfaced.

"You were doing it wrong," Yahiko said. "You would've burned up the whole pond and left none for the rest of us."

"I wouldn't have," she huffed.

"Yeah, because I stopped you."

Konan tossed a handful of water at him.

Yahiko didn't move as it smacked his back. "Anyway," he said, waving off Konan. "You didn't answer my question, Oka."

It didn't feel right to say it felt like honey. What did honey feel like? I knew it was sticky, but I couldn't imagine the sensation. "It's heavy," I tried to explain. "Hard."

Yahiko nodded. "That's what you should be trying to move. That chakra. Not the chakra in your hands or anywhere else."

"I can't," I said. "It won't go."

"That's why you have to keep practicing," Yahiko said as Konan fell in again. "It'll be easy before you know it."

He shot me a quick grin before he returned to the pond. His right leg stuck to the surface. His left leg did not. He tipped to the side with a yell and a splash.

I sat and nudged the pool of honey in my stomach, urging it to my feet. It resisted my poking, staying in place. Yahiko and Konan already made their chakra move. Why was it so hard for me?

"What's wrong, Oka?"

Konan knelt in front of me.

"Tell me how to do it," I said, frustrated as I poked her stomach.

"Hmm," she considered, poking me back.

I fought off a smile as I pushed her hand away. I was still ticklish.

"You can't give up so easily," she admonished. "No matter how long it takes, you have to keep at it, okay?"

"I can't take too long," I said. "I want to help Yahiko become a god of peace. I can't help if you leave me behind."

"Oh, Oka," Konan said sadly. "We're not leaving you behind. You're not leaving Nagato behind, are you?"

I frowned. "Not the same."

Konan tugged on the end of my braid and I launched forward. She yelped and fell back as I pretended to bite her arm.

"Yahiko, help," she called. "She's gone feral!"

Yahiko nodded. "That's her arm now."

"You won't help me?" Konan spluttered.

"I like having my arms," he said.

I let go. "Don't touch," I warned her seriously, pointing to my hair.

Konan held her hands up. "Okay, okay. The hair is off limits. Still," she glanced at Naga. "It is the same. But he doesn't feel like you're leaving him behind, right?"

"I'm not," I grumbled.

Konan reached out to pat my head, stopped at my growl, and squeezed my shoulder instead. "No one is leaving anyone behind. In fact, you're already ahead of all of us."

I frowned.

"You're little, Oka," Konan said with a soft smile. "By the time you're our age, you'll know way more than we do right now."

"Maybe," I said, relaxing a little.

"You will," Konan said. "Just keep practicing, okay? Like Yahiko said."

I nodded, folding my hands back in my lap.

Konan patted me again and stood.

By mid-afternoon, I'd exhausted myself. I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up again in Naga's lap, it was dark.

"It was a great effort, kid, but we can pick it up again tomorrow," Jiraya said.

I lifted my head.

Konan was splayed out on the grass, breathing hard.

"Not yet," Yahiko panted.

"Some of us need our beauty sleep," Jiraya complained.

I heard a splash.

"The first lesson you should learn is knowing when to rest," he lectured, shaking his head. "You can't brute-force your way past your limits. You'll only do more harm to your body than good this way."

"I don't believe you," Yahiko grunted. His hands were flat against the water. Bubbles formed beneath his right hand, but he still curled his fingers, fighting to find a handhold as he dragged himself out of the water. Trembling, he pressed his right foot against the surface.

He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling and shaking. He took a small step forward. His arms pinwheeled, but he didn't fall. He lifted his head and locked eyes with Jiraya.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm going to be a god one day. Don't underestimate me!"

And Jiraya stared, rendered speechless by the boy who would be god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ランブル - Rumble, 男の子 - The Boy, 誰 - Who, 意志 - Would, される 神 - Be God


	7. A Girl Named Oka - Part 4

"I Was Always on My Own.

I Could Not Ever Think of Letting Go, Oh No.

It Doesn't Matter if I Was Left Here to Die.

You Can Cut Me Deeper, But I'll, Be Fine.

'Cause In The End I Wouldn't Mind."

-Sarishinohara, Arvun

* * *

I leaned forward, looking over the planks Jiraya dropped on the table. The closest one had a crude flower drawn on the front in white paint.

Jiraya plopped down across from us, resting an arm on his knee. "Before we get to the good stuff, I want to teach you guys a little something that might save your lives someday." He picked up a plank with a frog drawn on it. "From now on, these will be hanging outside the hideout. Each of you has one, hand-crafted by yours truly. When you leave, flip the card to this side, that way everyone knows you're gone."

With a twist of his fingers, Jiraya showed us the red-painted back. "Flip it to this side to show that you're here." He put it down, looking at each of us. "What do you think it'll mean, if a card is flipped to the white side, but the owner is here?"

Konan frowned.

"Someone is pretending to be one of us," Yahiko answered. His right palm was wrapped in a thin bandage. He'd scalded himself water-walking and Tsunade had been so angry that she refused to heal him.

 _Who cares how fast you learn, if you destroy yourself to do it?_ she'd asked.

I shook my head. First she said we couldn't waste time. Then she was mad when Yahiko went too fast. It was confusing.

Jiraya nodded, looking around the table. "In that situation act first, without hesitation. If you don't, it could be the last mistake you make."

"Wait," Konan began tentatively. "What if we just forgot?"

"You can't forget," Jiraya said with a shake of his head. "Your lives will depend on it. I wish ending the war was as easy as having the resolve to do so. What a perfect world that would be," he sighed. "The closer you get to your goal, the more danger you'll attract. People will see you as a threat, for no reason other than because you're strong."

"The four of you have lived a life I can't even begin to imagine. But you've never had a target on your backs. You've been collateral damage, but no one has come at you with the intent to kill you for the sake of killing, someone who won't be stopped with pretty words."

"You're wrong," Yahiko said, slamming a hand on the table. "We know what it's like. If that bomb that went off had been any closer to Nagato and Oka, they would be dead." His eyes were hard. "Them not being the target wouldn't have changed anything. Dead is dead. That salamander would've eaten us the same as anyone else if we were in the way. It wouldn't have stopped fighting just because we weren't the target."

Jiraya closed his eyes. Suddenly, he looked very tired.

"What about all the people that died when the buildings fell? No one was targeting them, but they died the same as anybody!" He leaned back, crossing his arms. "We've had targets on us our whole lives. Stop talking to us like stupid kids who don't know anything."

It was quiet for a few seconds before Jiraya opened his eyes again. He looked up, past us, at the ceiling. "Some of Tsuna's luck must've rubbed off on me," he said with a stiff smile. "How did I get stuck with such a depressing bunch? You sure know how to kill a mood, kid."

"What's this one?"

All eyes went to Naga. He'd been laying down, but used the table to pull himself up. His scarred hand was held against his stomach, his eyes on a plank with four straight lines in the middle.

I got up and dropped down beside him. "Tsunade said to lay down," I told him firmly. "You're sick." I felt his arm. Not hot, but too warm.

"I have an infection," he corrected with a small smile.

I couldn't say it and he knew it. I pouted at him.

"In-fec-tion," he sounded out.

I pointed at the sweat-soaked blanket he'd been laying on. "Lay down."

His smile slipped. "Enough people are worrying about me, Oka. I don't want you to too."

"It won't heal if you're stubborn," I insisted.

Naga tilted his head. "You can say that but not infection?"

Jiraya loudly cleared his throat. "That," he said, reaching for the plank in front of Naga. "Is the symbol of this village. It's for Yahiko." He put it down in front of him.

The hard edge in Yahiko's gaze disappeared. He laced his hands behind his head. "We saw it already, remember? On the battlefield. Lots of people had headbands with it."

Naga blinked. "I remember," he began. "But that's not what I was looking at when we went down there."

"We won't have to do that anymore," Yahiko said. "Promise."

Naga's eyes flew up to meet his. After a moment, he ducked his head. "I'll hold you to that, Yahiko."

"What's this supposed to be?" Konan held up a crude drawing of deformed hands.

"Healing hands, for Nagato," Jiraya said proudly. When he met three blank stares, he sighed. "Everybody's a critic."

I traced the outline of an animal drawn on another plank. "Dog?" I asked the table, holding it up.

Yahiko squinted. "Looks more like a cat."

"Bird," Konan supplied.

Yahiko faced her. "That's not what a bird looks like."

"Yeah? How would you know?"

Yahiko stared at her, then turned away. "A bear," he confirmed.

"Rabbit," Naga said.

"Baby bird."

"What's with you and birds?" Yahiko asked Konan.

Naga poked me.

"I don't know any more animals," I said, squirming away from him.

Meanwhile, Jiraya slunk to the floor, muttering to remind himself to cross artist off his list of careers the next time he was alone. "It's a wolf," he finally said, miserably.

Yahiko pulled the plank closer to himself, but still let me hold it. "Those are dog ears," he declared.

"Are their noses supposed to be that wide?" Konan whispered.

"Not enough hair," Naga confirmed. "I saw a drawing of one a long time ago," he added when the table looked his way.

"Hateful children," Jiraya lamented. "Picking on an old man."

**トップ**

I opened my eyes, stretching out against Naga. It was afternoon. I knew, because that was when the most light came through the clouds.

I could see a hint of a smile, but he didn't look at me. His full attention was on Tsunade, crouched in front of him. A fish sat on a stretch of white paper between them. It flopped back and forth, mouth opening and closing. It was pelted with rain, but still couldn't breathe.

Tsunade lowered a glowing hand onto the fish. It stopped struggling.

"Where's the internal carotid artery?" she asked.

Naga pointed to a place beneath its eye.

"External?"

His finger moved lower, to the bottom of the fish.

Tsunade nodded. "I want you to keep it alive with chakra. When you fail, I'll give you another fish to practice on. But for every dead fish, you have to study ichthyoid anatomy for an hour. Got it?"

Naga swallowed, but nodded. "Yes, sensei."

"You have good chakra control," she said. "Not as good as boy-wonder over there, but its enough. Combined with your budding sensory abilities and decent reserves, you could make for a formidable medic-nin one day. That idiot over there thinks you'll take two months to master this. Do it in a month and I'll see about getting you an actual textbook on mammal anatomy, and not ratty pages torn out of a notebook."

She glared in Jiraya's direction, but he pretended not to notice. He stood at the edge of the bank, watching Yahiko and Konan on the water.

"I'll try my best," Naga said. He raised his hands, and they flickered green.

Tsunade pulled away from the fish.

Naga reached forward, and I felt him shudder as he stretched his left hand. He dropped it into his lap with a wince, only grasping the fish with his right. It struggled again, flopping and fighting to free itself.

"You have to use both hands, Nagato," she said.

His fist clenched, but he didn't.

"It'll hurt like hell," she admitted. "But you have to do it anyway. That's what we do, as medic-nin. I've had to watch comrades die, knowing there's nothing I can do to save them…" she trailed off.

"It's not a physical hurt like your scars, but it hurts all the same. But no matter what kind of pain I felt inside, I kept going, fighting to protect the people I love. That pain I'm talking about? It faded over time, just like your scars will. But for right now, you have to push through it. You've got people to protect, Nagato."

He released a long breath. His left hand shook, but he raised it, cringing as forced it closer and closer to the fish. He shuddered again, just short of touching it. The solid green glow around his right hand sputtered out.

"It hurts so much," he gasped.

"You have to endure it, Nagato," Tsunade said.

Naga squeezed his eyes shut. He grasped the fish, a tear sliding down his cheek.

I wrapped my arms around him. "Don't be sad," I murmured into his shirt.

"I'm not," he croaked. He seemed to notice then that the fish wasn't moving. "I didn't get to—I'm sorry—"

Tsunade took the fish and set it off to the side. With a quick bite of her finger, and a smear of blood in the middle of the paper, another appeared in its place. "I won't count that one," she said. "But starting now, no apologies. Don't ever be sorry for being in pain,"

Surprise flitted across Naga's face, then he nodded. His hands glowed green again.

"Okay?" I asked him as Tsunade walked away.

"I'm okay," he said, stronger than before.

I glanced at the fish. The mouth opened wide, eyes rolling back and forth. I looked at Naga. He was mumbling under his breath, complicated words I didn't understand.

I stood, and with a last look at him, moved closer to the bank.

"That was a nice speech," Jiraya complimented, eyes shifting to Tsunade. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were developing a soft spot for the kid."

"Shut it," she snapped.

"About that bet," Jiraya began. "You know, if he takes longer than you think he will, you won't be here to see him finish."

Tsunade stalked off in the opposite direction.

Jiraya heaved a sigh. "Women," he said with a shake of his head.

I stepped up to the edge, able to feel the water if I curled my toes.

Jiraya had set up painted, floating targets on the water and armed Yahiko and Konan with kunai.

I watched Yahiko throw one, only for the circle he was aiming at to bob slightly to the left. His kunai nicked the edge and spun below the surface.

He groaned. He trudged forward until he was standing over the spot where the kunai fell. Then he held his breath and dropped straight down.

Konan wobbled dangerously at the waves he caused, throwing out her arms to steady herself.

"How long is two months?" I asked.

Yahiko broke the surface, kunai handle between his teeth.

"Hm?" Jiraya asked.

"I thought it was a long time, but it doesn't sound like it."

Jiraya waved this away. "Ignore that. I'm working on it. She'll change her tune soon enough."

"Okay," I took a step forward, concentrating chakra at the soles of my feet. My chakra didn't feel thick and slow like before, but warm and fluid, like liquid chocolate. The thought made me blink.

_What did chocolate taste like?_

Yahiko wouldn't know, so I spun to face Jiraya. "What does chocolate taste like?"

He looked down at me, then off to the side. "Sweet," he said. "Depends on what type you get, though. What brought this on?"

I shrugged, turning back to face Yahiko and Konan. "I just wanted to know."

The only sweet food I ever had was the fried apple Naga brought me. Was it sweet like that? Or were there different types of sweets, like chakra?

"When can I have kunai?" I asked without turning around.

"Nagato worries enough as it is," Jiraya said lightly. "About you. About Yahiko, Konan, the future, the weather. I think he would have a heart-attack if he saw you with a kunai."

I looked over. Tsunade was making another fish appear for Naga.

"I want to help them," I told Jiraya.

He paused, then shook his head. "I want to say no, but living here, I don't think you have a choice" He pulled a kunai out of a pack on his hip and spun it around his finger. "Here. Knock yourself out."

I took it from him, holding it like a sacred treasure. I saw my wide-eyed stare on the reflective surface. It was lighter than I thought it would be.

**の**

Jiraya raised four slips of paper, held between each of his fingers. "This paper is special," he explained. "It comes straight from the Land of Fire. Expose it to chakra and it'll tell you what your elemental affinity is."

He lowered his hand and each of us took a slip.

I rubbed my thumb over it. "Naga?" I asked. "Where's the Land of Fire?"

Jiraya's smile fell.

Naga's eyes widened and his gaze shot down to his own slip. "I don't—"

"East," Yahiko provided. "That's all I know."

Naga looked grateful.

"We're just about equal now," Yahiko began. "I can't call you an employee anymore."

"Just about?" Konan asked, eyebrow raised.

"We have to cover for each other, as co-bosses," he went on, ignoring Konan. "You know lots of stuff I don't, and I know lots of stuff you don't. One day, when I need help with medical stuff, you'll be there to cover for me."

Naga nodded. "Right."

"And stop blaming yourself for everything," Konan admonished. "You used to do it before, but it got way worse after the attack. Missing Oka's birthday, not being able to do things like you used to—none of that is your fault."

Naga ducked his head. "I know," he said quietly.

"And that!"

His head jerked up as Konan approached.

She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. "How are you going to stand beside Yahiko as an equal if you can't look anyone in the eye?"

Naga's eyes widened.

"No one will take us seriously," she chastised. "So from now on, you're not doing that anymore," she said, poking his chest. "Got it, mister?"

"Tsuna would be proud of you," Jiraya snorted. "You sound just like her."

Red tinted Konan's cheeks, but she didn't look away from Naga.

"I got it," Naga said, head bobbing up and down.

"Do you?" she asked, poking him harder.

"I do," he said meekly, laughter in his voice.

Konan looked him up and down, then returned to her spot on Yahiko's other side.

I looked up at Naga. "Is Konan a grown-up now?"

"I don't know," he said. He sounded mystified.

Jiraya cleared his throat, and all four of us turned to look at him. He was sitting on the ground, holding a kunai, dirt covering the tip. He'd drawn groups of squiggly lines in the ground.

"Gather around," he said, beckoning us forward. "If you're going to make good on your promise to end the war, having knowledge of other countries is important. Lucky for you, you've got a spymaster for a sensei."

"Spymaster?" Konan asked.

"Long story short, I know everything about everyone," Jiraya explained with a wink.

"You didn't know about us before you came here," Yahiko pointed out.

Jiraya gave him a flat look. "I can still erase this," he warned.

I knelt at the edge of the drawing while Yahiko apologized. Each group had a symbol in the middle. I only recognized one, sandwiched between a swirly emblem, one that looked like a group of rocks, and another that looked like an hourglass. It had four lines. Amegakure.

"It's a map," Naga explained. He pointed to the swirly symbol. "That's the Land of Fire, I think."

"No, that's the Land of Fire," Jiraya said, gesturing to the character beside the symbol. "That one represents Konohagakure, where I'm from."

I leaned in, as if I could get a glimpse of Jiraya's home if I was close enough. "Is there a sun?"

Jiraya seemed taken aback for a moment. Then he sighed. "There is. It's sunny almost all the time."

I stared at Jiraya. "Really?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't lie about that."

"That's not why she asked," Yahiko said, inspecting another symbol with four lines, except they were diagonal. "Now she's fixated on visiting that place."

I would. I would visit this place with the constant sun, as soon as I could. Did they wish for rain like we wished for the sun?

"Let's do this first," Konan said, holding her slip up.

I looked down, at the slip sitting forgotten between my thumb and forefinger.

"What's stopping you—"

"At the same time," she interrupted Yahiko.

Naga stood. "Okay," he said.

Konan looked at Yahiko, then me.

I sat back and held my paper out. "Okay!"

"You're lucky I didn't do it already," he said, nudging Konan.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then held her paper close to mine. Naga's was between ours, and Yahiko's on the other side.

"On three!" she said. "One, two, three!"

Konan gasped as her paper split in half.

Yahiko yelped, shaking soggy pieces off his hand.

Naga stared at the half still in his hand, the other half fluttering to the ground.

And I watched my paper crumble, leaving behind bits of dirt on my fingertips.

**世界**

I laid on my stomach on the surface of the lake, chin propped on my hands. Silver-green fish swam back and forth below me. They had bodies the color of moss, and scales that looked like the clouds early in the afternoon.

It was bigger than the pond we used to practice water-walking, there was grass instead of sand, and a cliff created an overhang for Jiraya to sit under.

"Today," Jiraya announced. "You're going to work on your reflexes, and your ability to anticipate the moves of your opponent. And to do that, we're going to have a little competition." He grinned. "You're going to catch fish."

Yahiko crouched at that, flipping the kunai in his hand so the point faced the water.

"To win, either catch one big fish, or three small fish. Your prize is…" he trailed off.

"A jutsu?" Yahiko asked.

"New clothes?" Konan hoped.

I looked over my shirt. The edges were frayed, with threads skimming the water. Still, I didn't want to get rid of it. There was a rip in the shoulder, where Chibi had bitten it.

It was all I had left to remember him by.

"Close," Jiraya said to Yahiko. "It's not the jutsu you want, but I'll teach you _a_ jutsu. The substitution jutsu. It's less advanced than what you've been doing, but no less important."

Yahiko didn't look happy, but nodded.

Jiraya raised an eyebrow. "What? No objections?"

"If you want us to learn it, it must be important," Yahiko said. "Yeah, I wanted to skip steps before, but now I know it would've taken way longer to get this far if I did. Tsunade-sensei was right," he admitted. "Walk first, run later."

Konan leaned close to me. "You hear that, Oka? Even Yahiko knows how important it is to take things slow."

I stuck my tongue out, but it only made her smile.

"I'm that one that's your sensei, but she's had more of an impact than me," Jiraya lamented. "I taught you plenty of life-lessons. Better ones."

"Hmm," Konan rubbed her chin. "You did teach us to throw kunai, sensei."

"Not a life-lesson, but I'll take it."

"It's a lesson we're using in life," Konan said back.

"No, see, a life-lesson is one that sticks in the head of the protagonist. It's supposed to change their entire outlook on life—"

"Teaching us to throw kunai changed how we look at life," Konan countered.

Jiraya stared at her, hands frozen mid-gesture. "It's not a physical thing you learn," he tried. "A life-lesson sticks to the soul. It's passed on from generation to generation—"

Konan held up her kunai. "And we won't pass this on?"

"How much time have you been spending with Tsunade, exactly?" Jiraya asked flatly.

"Caught a fish," Yahiko said, a small, limp fish stuck on the end of his kunai.

"What?" Konan spun. "Cheater!" she spluttered.

"He never said we had to wait for him to say go," Yahiko smiled. "Only losers play fair."

Konan's fist clenched. "Just you wait," she grumbled, focusing on the pond.

"This competition applies to you too, Oka."

I looked up. The fish were gathered in clusters below me, scared from all the noise Konan made and the splashes of kunai hitting the water. It was a silver-green kaleidoscope and one of the prettiest things I'd ever seen, second only to Mama's hair.

"I know," I said. I got up and walked off the lake. "Do lots of people have red-hair in Konoha?"

Jiraya blinked. "Only one person that I know of. Why?"

It didn't feel right, telling him about Mama. "I wish I had red hair," I told him.

Jiraya's eyes moved up to my raven locks. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. "You should still practice," he advised. "Even if you don't want to win."

"What's the substitution jutsu?" I asked.

Jiraya winced. "The others already knew, so I just assumed…" he trailed off with a shake of his head. "It lets you do this." He pressed his fingers together and disappeared in a puff of smoke. When it cleared, a frog-shaped statue sat in his place.

"Over here, Oka!"

I tilted my head back. Jiraya was perched at the top of the cliff, striking a pose. He grinned. "I'm amazing, right?"

I ran my thumb over the frog's head. It was solid, real. "Chakra did that?" I asked him.

Jiraya hopped down, landing on the grass in front of me. "I shouldn't be surprised you still don't have a firm grasp on what chakra is," he said. "Now, what kind of sensei would I be if I didn't help you fill in the gaps?" He plopped down. "Alright, sit. You and I are going to have a little chat about chakra."

I sat, pulling the frog statue into my lap. "I know what chakra is," I grumbled.

He leaned back. "Then explain it to me."

I made a face. "I can use it to water-walk," I said. "And push it around to my hands and feet."

"That's what you can do with it," he agreed. "But not what it is. What's physical energy?"

I frowned. I turned the frog statue around and didn't answer.

"Spiritual energy?"

"I have too much of it," I mumbled.

"That you do," Jiraya nodded. "But what is it?"

I squeezed the statue between my hands. "I don't need to know what it is," I said. "Only how to use it."

"Ah, and there lies the problem," Jiraya said. "That's not normal."

I blinked.

"You mastered water-walking around the same time as Konan, didn't you?" he mused. "Even though you started after her, are much younger, and don't have a great understanding of what chakra is in the first place."

"Yahiko did it before me," I said.

"It's different for him," Jiraya dismissed. "He understands chakra. In fact, he has a better grasp on it than most adults. That's why he's so advanced."

"Did I do something bad?" I asked.

"Bad? No," Jiraya laughed. "I'm just trying to figure something out, that's all."

"About me?"

"There are people in this world who take to chakra like a duck taking to water," he explained. "Those people are called prodigies, but I suspect you aren't one. The others are prodigies," he said, gesturing to Yahiko and Konan. "But none of them have the amount of spiritual chakra you do. I think something different is happening."

"Bad different?"

"Not bad or good," Jiraya said. "Just different. The way you build spiritual chakra is through knowledge and experience. By practicing water-walking until you mastered it, you increased your spiritual chakra. Nagato is increasing his spiritual chakra by studying medical techniques as we speak."

I looked back. Konan dropped a fish on the grass and ran back onto the pond. Off to the side were two other fish. Yahiko's.

"Who am I kidding?" Jiraya asked himself. "You're not understanding any of this, are you?"

"Spiritual chakra comes from practice," I parroted back at him. "And water-walking gave me some."

"You already had some," Jiraya pointed out.

"A little added to a lot," I said.

"Anything before that?"

I made another face. "I'm not in trouble," I mumbled.

Jiraya shook his head. "Just as I thought. Well, the question I was trying to get to is this: if you never knew about chakra or used it before you met me, how do you think you had so much spiritual chakra built up without training?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly right," Jiraya said. "You know what that means? You're pretty special, kid."

Was I?

I waited, as if the feeling would appear in my head, like it had been there all along. What did it feel like, to be special?

Jiraya leaned forward. "Now, this next part, keep it between us, okay?"

"I can't," I said. I wouldn't lie. Not to Konan, Yahiko, or Naga.

"Alright, alright," Jiraya relented, "Tell them, if they ask. But if they don't, stay quiet."

Was that still a lie? I hesitated before nodding.

Jiraya held his hands up. "Copy everything that I do," he said. He twisted his fingers together. "This is the Tiger seal. It's the first hand-seal for the substitution jutsu."

I stared at him. "But I didn't win."

Jiraya winked. "That's why it's a secret," he said. "Hand-seals are the basis for all jutsu. They help you mold your chakra into a different nature, whether it be elemental or yin-yang. You following?"

I thought so. I lifted my hands and mimicked him, but it was hard to keep my thumbs straight, and harder still to keep my fingers bent.

"Cheaters always lose," Konan said behind me.

I dropped my hands, guilty without knowing why.

"You sure are confident when I let you win," Yahiko said.

I turned. Konan held three small fish in Yahiko's face. Yahiko only had two.

"You didn't," she protested, lowering the fish. "I won, fair and square!"

"I wasn't going to tell you," Yahiko said solemnly. "But I had to, for your health. Gloating causes dehydration, you know."

Konan stared at him. "It does not."

"That was fast, huh?" Jiraya asked, pushing himself to his feet. "Looks like I should've given you more tasks. But you've been quite the help, catching us dinner so I don't have to."

"You made us do this so you could slack off?" Konan demanded.

"The loser," he drawled, ignoring her outrage. "Has to clean and cook what we eat for the rest of the week."

He turned his gaze to Yahiko, who closed his eyes. "Konan," he said, slowly. "I'm never letting you win anything ever again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> トップ - Top, の - Of, 世界 - The World


	8. A Girl Named Oka - Part 5

"Hey, There's Nothing To Say,

Catastrophe By Design,

But Just For Today,"

-Harmonics, Kuraiinu

* * *

I stood on my tip-toes, reaching for my card on the wall. My fingers brushed the bottom, but I couldn't grasp it, no matter how hard I stretched.

"Almost," Naga said, patting my head. He flipped his own card to the red side. The two cards beside his were red, while the frog and slug cards on the other side were white. "Want me to lower it for you?"

"No." I hopped up, making the card rattle.

"Stubborn," Naga said with a shake of his head. He moved behind me.

"I got it," I insisted.

"I know you do," Naga said. He knelt, wrapped his arms around me, and with a grunt, lifted me so that I was at eye-level with the card.

"Naga," I complained even as I twisted the card to the red side.

"That wasn't for you," Naga said as he put me down. "I miss when you were a little baby sometimes. You loved it when I picked you up."

I took his hand. "I forgive you, but only this time," I said.

Naga smiled and pushed the door open.

"Passcode!" Yahiko called. He was laying on his back, holding one of Naga's textbooks above him.

Naga waited until he closed the door before he answered, "We don't have one."

"We should make a real passcode," Konan said. Half-finished origami littered the ground in front of her.

"That is a real passcode," Yahiko said. "No one will expect it."

"Where'd sensei go?" Naga asked.

"Tsunade-sensei went to look for a bar," Konan answered, tapping her chin. "Jiraya-sensei said he was going to do some 'research' for the book he's writing."

"How can you read this?" Yahiko asked.

"You're holding it upside down," Naga told him.

"It's the same either way," Yahiko said. "No matter which way I look at it, none of it makes sense."

I broke away from Naga and sat across from Konan, her paper creations between us.

"Any luck?" she asked.

"I'm not a sensor," I shrugged. "But Naga's getting better. He can tell people apart now, just by their chakra."

"Really? That's great," she said. "I've been practicing too. Wanna see?"

I nodded.

Konan took a deep breath and pressed her fingers into the bird seal. A moment later, one of the paper roses unfolded into individual slips and began to float. Her brows furrowed and the paper slips lifted higher into the air.

I leaned close, just as she exhaled, and paper rained down around us.

"I don't know what to call it yet," she confessed. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

I poked a piece on my knee, but it didn't move. "Where does the chakra go when you stop manipulating it?"

Konan blinked. "I don't really know, Oka. When Jiraya-sensei comes back you should ask him."

"No, that's okay," I said, standing. "It's harder to understand when he explains things."

Konan giggled. "He'd be so mad if he heard you say that."

"Don't work too hard," I instructed, hands on my hips. "Take a break."

Konan covered her mouth to smother her laugh. "You're mimicking Tsunade-sensei now, too?"

"I won't heal you if you go too far," I lowered my voice, turning my nose up at her.

I smiled as she dissolved into laughter.

"That's inside me?" Yahiko asked, finger stabbing a page of Naga's textbook. He was on his stomach, the book beneath him.

I peeked over his shoulder. On the right page was a drawing of something that was in the shape of a bloated crescent, with arrows pointing to different parts of it.

"I think so," Naga said, sitting in front of him.

Yahiko looked up.

"Some people are born without one," he quietly added.

"How can people be born _without_ an organ?" Yahiko spluttered.

I knelt beside him, running a finger over the large, bold words at the top. "What does that say?"

"Spleen," Naga read. "It's here." He poked below my chest.

I squirmed away from him. "You could've shown me on Yahiko," I said.

Naga smiled and waggled his fingers at me.

"What does it do?" Yahiko asked.

Naga pointed to a paragraph on the left page.

Yahiko followed his finger. Three seconds passed before he nodded. "It's gibberish," he confirmed.

In response, Naga turned to a page at end of the book. "All the big words and what they mean are listed here," he said.

Yahiko stared at it, then at Naga. "What language is that?" he asked.

Naga shook his head but turned the book to face himself. "I'll read it to you," he obliged. "It'll be good practice for Oka, too."

**我々**

Jiraya ducked into the bar, holding the curtain aside as he took a quick look around. It was possibly the last remaining bar in Amegakure. The others he knew of had been destroyed, looted, or abandoned.

Though, it wasn't in the best shape. Water dripped from a hole in the roof, marks covered the floor where chairs used to be, and several parts of the wall looked like it had been hastily patched with wood of a different color.

He stepped up to the bar. Save for the bartender, the place was empty.

"Yo," he greeted, and the bartender looked up from the cup he'd been wiping. His bland, empty stare immediately sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'm looking for a woman," he pushed on anyway. "Big, voluptuous breasts. And I mean _big._ Between you and me, I don't know how she carries around those things around—"

He heard a long, drawn out sigh behind him. "What do you want?"

Jiraya turned, and there was Tsunade. She'd come in from outside. He knew, because she was soaking wet. Damn this village and its rain. Looking past her, he saw what he hadn't before. A slight seam in the wall, hidden by the multicolored wood and poor lightning.

"Looking as good as ever, Tsuna," he greeted.

She held two letters in each hand. One for Dan, the other for Nawaki. "Cut the crap," she said. "Why follow me here?"

The bartender quietly disappeared into the back room.

"Follow you?" he asked. "Can't a man enjoy a drink and some, hopefully, well-endowed entertainment?"

Tsunade shook her head and turned away. She had a hand on the secret door when he spoke again.

"I'm glad you decided to stay," he admitted. "It would've been awfully lonely here without you."

She dropped her hand. "Dan didn't like it, you know," she said. "He worries. I would too, if our positions were reversed. I'm deep in enemy territory. I can't imagine what he'd think, if he knew we were only still alive because Hanzo thought we deserved to be."

Jiraya leaned against the bar. "At least we got cool titles out of it," he said.

Tsunade looked back at him over her shoulder, and he could see her smile. "I'm trying to have a serious moment here, idiot."

"Serious? Around me?" he asked. "I'm not Orochi, you know."

Tsunade shook her head. "That you aren't," she said dryly.

Jiraya shrugged. "If Dan knows you like I do, he'll understand."

"It's not about that," she said. "I wonder what's keeping me here sometimes. I wanted to be home before Nawaki's birthday, since the war kept me away last year. I chose to stay here instead. So many people are waiting for me back home and yet I didn't leave when I had the chance. Why am I betting it all on a group of orphans from a random war-torn village?"

"Because you think they can do it," Jiraya answered.

"They're kids," Tsunade protested.

"They're not. They haven't been kids for a very long time, and I think you know that."

Tsunade closed her eyes. "That orange-haired brat reminds me so much of Nawaki."

"Konan is—"

Tsunade shot him a warning look.

Jiraya reconsidered. "She's developing her own jutsu, you know."

Tsunade faced the wall, but not before he caught the glint of pride in her eyes. "Is she?"

She could try to hide it all she wanted, but Jiraya knew she'd grown fond of her so-called brats.

"I never thought I would get an apprentice this soon," she said quietly.

"You can't bear to see them die before they get the chance to shoot for their dream," Jiraya mused. "The only way to give them that chance is to teach them to survive. And no one around here will do it, so it falls to us. I feel the same way, princess."

He watched her shoulders rise, her fists clench. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her face, but he knew she was embarrassed by the use of her old nickname.

"And Oka—" he started.

"She's a prodigy," Tsunade agreed.

Except, that wasn't what he was going to say. She didn't see it then, that Oka wasn't a real prodigy. Jiraya's thoughts about Oka were nothing more than half-baked theories, but there were two things he was certain about.

Her spiritual knowledge put her ahead of even Yahiko, but she was held back by her physical limitations.

At the rate she was progressing, her chakra reserves would surpass his own one day. It must've run in the family, because he expected the same of Nagato.

And one thing he was less certain about.

She might be what he was searching for. The child the old toad talked about in his prophecy.

"Yeah," Jiraya grunted, pushing away from the counter. "A prodigy."

**できる**

"Ready?" Jiraya asked.

I nodded. In a blink, he flashed through two hand-seals. I missed the first, but the second was the rat seal.

"Demonic Illusion: Death Mirage Jutsu."

Jiraya disappeared.

_"I only want to see if you can break out of it," he'd explained. "So, I'll make it obvious you're in one. But if this were a real battle, chances are you wouldn't even notice you were in a genjutsu until it was too late. We'll work on identifying the complex stuff later. For now, just show me you can do it."_

I threw my hands up, focused my chakra, and opened my mouth—

"Oka," Naga croaked before I could speak. "Oka, I'm so scared."

He sounded hurt and broken and terrified. Like Papa, when he told Naga to run. I stumbled, like the thought was a physical blow.

"Please," he begged.

I turned around.

Naga laid on the grass behind me. His eyes were closed, and bloody lines ran from each eyelid down to his chin. The handle of a gunbai was impaled through his back, pinning him to the ground. He raised a shaking, bloody hand.

"Please," he gasped.

I dropped down beside him. "You're not real," I murmured, even as I took his hand.

He stared at me. "What? Why-Why would you say that?"

"Because Jiraya-sensei said you weren't," I pressed his palm against my cheek.

Naga sagged and red dribbled out from under him. "I'm dying," he wheezed. "Take it out, Oka. Please."

I looked at the gunbai but shook my head. I put his hand down. "I have to go," I told him.

"Wait," he gasped, grabbing my sleeve. "Oka, please, please don't. You came over here just to leave me?"

"No," I said. "I did it because I love you too much, Naga."

"Love," he repeated, cheek against the grass. His hand fell away. "How stupid."

He reached up, pinched his own chin between his fingers, and peeled the skin back.

I took a step back. "Naga?"

The more he peeled, the more he revealed a bright orange mask. He tossed his face aside, and a red glow emanated from a single eye-hole. "You stupid, stupid girl," he said.

I took another step back. I didn't know him, did I? Why then, were my hands shaking?

He rose, phasing through the gunbai like a ghost.

I shuddered and felt the sudden, urgent need to get away from him. I whirled, slipping a little on the blood— _Naga's blood_ —and I ran.

"Ah, ah," he admonished. He sounded too close. "Too late."

I felt a pull, the sensation of being lifted off my feet, and then I was sucked into the dark.

I bolted upright, shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

"Oka, Oka," it was Naga, saying my name over and over.

I was cradled like a baby in his lap. I buried my face in his chest, clinging to him like he would disappear if I let go.

Naga sagged in relief.

"What happened?" Yahiko asked.

"I had a nightmare," I whispered, only loud enough for Naga to hear.

"I know," he said, fighting the tremor in his voice. "Don't think about it anymore."

"She had a bad reaction to the genjutsu I used," Jiraya explained somewhere behind me. "I thought you were ready, Oka, and you weren't. That's my fault."

"Oh, poor Oka," Konan murmured.

"I'm sleepy, Naga," I mumbled.

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "I'll protect you from the nightmares."

"Promise you'll be there when I wake up?"

"Always," he said firmly.

**調和**

Konan stood above me, adjusting a paper flower crown on my head.

"There we go!" she said, leaning back. "A worthy crown for the birthday girl."

I glanced up. "Konan?"

"Hm?"

"Why don't you have a birthday?"

Konan faltered. "I do," she said, forcing a happy note into her voice. "I just don't know when it is," she admitted. "I don't think Yahiko and Nagato do either. But since we know yours, that's what we're celebrating. Have a good birthday for all of us, okay?"

"Okay, but next time, it's your birthday," I declared.

"It is?" Konan asked, scratching her cheek.

"Then Naga, then Yahiko."

"Hmm," Konan said. "If we're all going to have birthdays then Yahiko should be first, since he's the oldest."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been with him the longest, silly," Konan said, poking my cheek.

I swatted her, baring my teeth.

Konan smiled, but moved her fingers away from my mouth. "He's older than me. I know that," she said. "Nagato might be older than me, but I don't think so. So, his birthday would come last."

"And then mine after that?" I asked.

"No," Konan said. "We're not changing your birthday. We can't. It's a specific date."

"So, I'm the oldest?" I asked.

"Not if Yahiko picks his birthday before yours," Konan stuck her tongue out.

I stuck mine out back at her.

"Don't tease the birthday girl, Konan," Yahiko said. "It's rude."

"You're one to talk," Konan shot back.

Yahiko nodded, taking this in stride. "You've been very sassy lately," he noted. "I think it's time I talk to Nagato about staging an intervention."

Konan flushed. "I've always been like this."

"More than usual," Yahiko corrected.

"Why are you interrupting us?"

Yahiko squinted at her. Then, ignoring the question entirely, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and knelt in front of me. "For the princess," he said, bowing his head as he held it out.

"Princess?" I asked, looking to Konan.

"Just take the gift," Yahiko whispered.

I did, holding it up as I unfolded it. My eyes widened. It was a drawing of the sky, using colors I'd never seen before. The sun was bright yellow in the middle and the biggest. The clouds were milky white, the sky around them baby blue.

"This is what the sky looks like?" I asked him in awe.

"In places where there's no rain, yeah."

"Woah," Konan said. "What did you have trade for this?"

"Four big fish from the lake," Yahiko said, lacing his hands behind his head. "No one wants to leave their homes to fish. I just did it for them."

I hugged him tight. "Thank you."

"As long I get the title of best gift giver, I'm happy."

"This is the best gift I've gotten ever," I told him.

Yahiko beamed.

"What about my flower crown?" Konan asked.

"Now, now," Yahiko chided. "She already decided. Don't be a sore loser."

Konan crouched beside me. "A crown made of flowers is way better than some dingy painting, right?"

 _Pain-ting._ Another word I'd never heard before.

"It's of the _sky_ ," I emphasized, clinging to Yahiko.

"You heard her," Yahiko said, raising his arms helplessly. "Sky beats flower crown."

I pulled back, lifting the painting above my head. It was so, so close to the real thing. I paused. "What do I do with it?"

Yahiko blinked down at me.

"I can't take it outside," I thought aloud. "And I don't wanna leave it on the floor."

"Ah, I see," Yahiko said. "We can hang it up, if you want."

"Hang it up?" I repeated.

"Yeah, I'll show you."

I followed Yahiko across the room. He stopped in front of the back wall. "We can put it right here." He tapped the wall with his knuckle.

"Okay," I nodded.

"I'm on it," Yahiko said. He held his hand out and I surrendered the painting. "Give me five minutes."

"Okay," I said, watching him move around the hideout. He was looking for something, but I didn't know what.

While he did that, I wandered down the small hallway behind the kitchen. There was only one door in the middle, leading to the bathroom. I rapped my knuckles against it.

"Naga?" I asked. He'd been in there for a long time.

I heard something crash inside, and then Naga threw the door open. Something was on the floor behind him, but he moved in the way when I tried to look around him. He hadn't patted down his hair, so it stuck up everywhere.

"Oka," he said, alarmed. "You can't look. It's not done yet."

"O-kay," I said, but didn't move.

Naga sighed. He placed his hands on my shoulders, turned me around, and gave me a light push in the opposite direction. He closed the door before I could turn back around.

"You know," Yahiko began as I walked back to the living area. "He's lucky Konan hasn't had to use the bathroom."

"Why me?"

"I could just go outside," Yahiko pointed out, and Konan turned bright red.

The painting was on the wall, held in place by a slip of paper over each corner.

"It's so pretty," I said.

"You're welcome," Yahiko said.

I sat, leaning back so I could admire it. I was still looking at it when the door opened.

"Passcode?" Yahiko asked.

"Brat, do we really have to—"

"Passcode," Yahiko interrupted her, voice harder.

"Don't have one," Jiraya answered for them both. "Sorry we're late, but you wouldn't believe the pretty ladies they have standing guard at the border today. If I were a weaker man, I might've let them see us, just so I could get a good look at those huge—"

"This," Tsunade interrupted loudly, shooting him a glare. "Is for you." She dropped a wrapped package on the table.

I crawled closer, turning it over in my hands.

"Well?" Tsunade asked, crossing her arms.

Yahiko leaned down. "That's not it. You're supposed to open it, Oka," he whispered.

I pulled at the bag until it tore and, with an encouraging nod from Yahiko, tore the rest off until a pair of black sandals fell into my lap. Smooth black fabric was attached to each of them.

"Sandals?" Konan asked, kneeling beside me.

"Shinobi sandals," Tsunade corrected. "Made specifically for the little brat."

Yahiko gazed down, looking longingly at his own dirty feet.

"Can I get shinobi sandals for my birthday too, Tsunade-sensei?" Konan asked.

"Which is when, exactly?"

Konan went quiet.

I sat and tugged them on my feet. The sandals fit, but the fabric hung off the back, and I stared, not knowing what do with it.

Tsunade sighed and knelt in front of me. "Stay still," she ordered and pulled them off. She grabbed my leg with one hand, shoving the fabric up around my ankle with the other. She adjusted the sandal, then let go. "That's how you put them on."

"Thank you, Tsunade-sensei," I said.

"No problem."

Jiraya unveiled a scroll from his coat pocket as she stood and twirled it in his hand. "You've been asking, no _begging,_ for something chocolatey, so Jiraya the Sanin has finally granted your precious wish." He pressed his thumb in the middle, and a round object popped out.

"This," he began, putting the brown thing down in front of me. "Is a chocolate cupcake."

Konan shifted closer, looking at it with wide eyes.

"Huh. If I knew you wanted one so much, I would've gotten it for you instead," Yahiko said.

"I don't," I said, leaning in to sniff the cupcake.

It smelled like cinnamon.

Yahiko paused, turning on his heel to look at Jiraya.

"Idiot," Tsunade said with a shake of her head.

"She did ask for chocolate before," Jiraya protested.

"You've got to tell me what it tastes like, Oka," Konan begged.

"Here," I pushed it towards her with my fingertips.

Konan backed off, shaking her head. "No, no. It's your present. You should have the first bite."

I picked it up and cradled it in my hands. It was hard, but squishy. Not liquid chocolate, like I'd asked about, but another form of it. I leaned forward.

Yahiko grabbed my wrist before I could take a bite. Without a word, he peeled off the wrapping and bunched it up in his fist. "It may not look like it, but it's paper, Oka. You can't eat that."

I turned the cupcake in my hands, ensuring it was free of paper before I took a bite. It was softer on the inside, almost gooey. A different kind of sweet, but bitter at the same time. I made a face and leaned close to Konan, lowering my voice. "I don't like it," I admitted.

Konan's eyes widened. She scooted closer. "You sure? They're supposed to be really good."

I tried to push the cupcake into her hands, but she resisted. "We have to be more discreet," she said quietly, bending her head close to mine. "You're not supposed to give away a gift like that. It's rude."

"But I don't want it."

"Shhhh," she said, casting a look over her shoulder.

Casually, Konan laid her hand flat on the table, palm-up. "Start by giving me a small piece," she instructed. "So they don't notice."

"Why?"

"It's good manners, Oka," she said.

I didn't understand, but I scratched a piece off the top. Then I deposited the contents that were under my fingernail into her palm.

Konan's face twisted in disgust.

On my other side, Yahiko plucked the cupcake from my grasp. He broke it in half, swept the crumbs out of Konan's palm, and placed half there. "You know what's bad manners?" he asked, taking a bite. "Pretending to like something when you don't."

"I wasn't making her pretend," Konan protested. "I just didn't want to be rude!"

Yahiko looked her up and down. "Ah. I understand."

"What?"

"You're going through puberty," Yahiko revealed. "That's why you're so worried about manners all of a sudden."

I heard Jiraya choke. When I looked back, he was coughing hard into his palm.

"I bet you don't even know what puberty is," Konan sputtered.

"I do," Yahiko said airily. "The knowledge of it comes with a certain level of maturity, you see. You're not there yet."

"I'm mature,"

"It all makes sense now," Yahiko said to himself.

"Yahiko!"

"Hey, Yahiko?" I asked. "What's puberty?"

Konan made a distressed noise, her mouth full of cupcake. Yahiko looked at me, then he put the cupcake down. He turned fully to face me. "Are you sure you want to know, Oka? It's forbidden, dangerous knowledge."

"I'm not little anymore," I argued. "If you know, I want to know too."

Yahiko nodded. "In that case, we should start with—"

Hands covered my ears. I looked up at Konan, who glared at Yahiko. She said something and he tumbled over, laughing hard.

I pushed her hands aside.

"Who told you _that_?" Yahiko gasped.

I looked to Konan for an answer, but she looked away, her face a fierce red. "You don't want to know, Oka. Trust me."

I frowned. "I'm old enough," I insisted.

Konan shook her head and tried to smile. "You're not. Just wait a little while longer, okay?"

Yahiko was still laughing.

I didn't want to be left out, but Konan wouldn't meet my eyes. I frowned. "I'm going to check on Naga," I said, but didn't wait for an answer. If the others wouldn't tell me, I would ask him.

It took him almost a minute to answer. The question on the tip of my tongue dissolved at the unhappy look on his face.

"What's wrong, Naga?" I asked.

"I don't think I'll make it," he said. "I'm really, really trying, but stitching is harder than I thought it would be."

"That's okay," I said. "Give it to me tomorrow."

He looked surprised. He shook his head and plopped down. "Remember what Konan told me to stop doing?" he asked.

I knelt in front of him. "Yeah. She was kind of scary."

"Scary good or scary bad?"

I thought about it, then shrugged. "Just scary. Like Tsunade-sensei."

Naga smiled. "I know what you mean. You can look if you want."

I shook my head. "Not if you don't want me to."

"I want you to," he said. When I hesitated, he leaned forward. "I really, _really_ want you to."

I peeked around him. There was an explosion of red thread and needles on the floor. Most were tangled together, with lines spanning all over the bathroom. There was a semi-clear spot in the middle, where part of a scarf was.

"You thought I wouldn't like it?" I asked.

Naga shook his head. "What I thought was really stupid and not true, but I never thought you wouldn't like it."

I leaned against him. "Good, because I already love it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 我々 - We, できる - Can, 調和 - Harmonize


	9. A Girl Named Oka - Part 6

"A secret place for me and you,

Where everyday was fun and new.

A simple time played in our heads,

We'll tell this story again."

\- Summertime Record, JubyPhonic

* * *

"Sorry, Oka," Naga panted. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "'Is okay," I murmured.

Tsunade was inspecting the animal at Naga's feet.

She'd called it a binturong.

Tsunade had just found it when I fell asleep. One of its back legs was broken, she'd said, and it was up to Naga to fix it.

"Not bad," she praised, turning the foot back and forth. "Not bad at all."

Naga closed his eyes. He was flat on his back, arms and legs spread out.

I crawled closer to Tsunade and sat beside the binturong. I watched the slow rise and fall of its chest, the twitch of its long tail. It was a new thing, like the fish in the lake. How many animals were hidden around Amegakure that I didn't know about?

Tsunade pulled back its eyelid and I saw that it had red-brown eyes. "You didn't use enough chakra, and you weren't precise enough," she lectured, moving her hand down to its knee. "You mended the break, but it will heal badly if left alone. The patella and fibula still have fracture lines."

Naga's face scrunched up.

She touched the front of its leg. "The tibia is a little better. The bone is healed, but not the muscle or skeletal tissue. Nor did you reattach it properly to the patella or tarsus." Her finger moved down to its ankle.

"But, for your first time, this is good work. You can fix this, and that's the most important part. What would have happened if you used too much chakra?"

"Fused the bones together," Naga murmured. "Or to the skin or muscle."

Tsunade nodded. "If that happened, it would be permanent. Trying to fix that would only cause more damage. Better to leave it as is and accept the consequences."

"It won't. I won't hurt anyone like that. Not ever," he said.

"Of course you won't," Tsunade scoffed. "I would be the first in line to kill you if you did."

I could see a small smile on his face. "Thank you, Tsunade-sensei," he said. "For everything."

"Don't mention it," she said. Though her voice was gruff, her eyes were soft. "But you can't rest yet. There's one more thing I want you do today."

Naga pushed himself up on his elbows. "I can try," he said. "But I'm running low on chakra."

"Not that," Tsunade said with a dismissive wave. "I'll take care of the overgrown rat. But you did waste a frankly impressive amount of chakra each time you used Mystical Palm. You pushed so much of it into the jutsu, but actually used very little."

Naga frowned.

"You lack control. First thing tomorrow, I'm adding more chakra control exercises to your regimen."

His brow furrowed. "I thought I had good control."

"You did," Tsunade said. "In a way, you were lucky. You started training in medical-ninjutsu when your chakra reserves were small and easy to control. But your reserves grow as you do. Only when your body stops growing will your reserves stop too. Until then, you'll have to work harder to maintain the control you once had."

"When you finished with the binturong you thought you healed both the bone and the fractures, didn't you?" she asked.

Naga's frown deepened but he nodded.

"That should've told you how much your control degraded since we first started. You lost any preciseness you might've had before."

"I understand, sensei."

"Yahiko doesn't do exercises anymore. Why does Naga get extra?" I asked.

Tsunade flicked me, hard enough to sting. "Boy-wonder doesn't have half the chakra you two do," she scoffed and I winced, rubbing the spot with my thumb. "He has small reserves, so he has an easier time controlling them. The same way you have larger reserves, so you have more stamina."

"Stamina?"

"We can use more jutsu without getting tired," Naga explained.

"So," I thought. "Yahiko gets tired faster?"

"Not the way you are now. In fact, I doubt boy-wonder would have a problem outlasting you both and having chakra to spare after," Tsunade said dryly. "I'm not about to go in depth about why, so here's the short answer to your next question: It's not about how much chakra you have, but how you use it. He knows that his reserves are a little less than average, so he uses as little chakra as possible in jutsu. There's never a drop wasted."

I looked over. Jiraya was standing on the bank, watching Konan and Yahiko run across the pond. He wanted us to increase our endurance by doing laps, but I got tired, so it was just Konan and Yahiko.

"This is the last thing I wanted you to do today," Tsunade said again.

A scroll was unrolled in front of her. It was unlike any scroll I'd ever seen. Instead of a pattern of characters with a place to summon in the middle, it had two words in red ink, printed side-by-side.

"This is a summoning contract," Tsunade explained. "I want you to sign it, Nagato. As long as you have chakra, you'll be able to summon slugs from Shikkotsu Forest. They'll act as your allies in battle or assist you in healing your comrades."

Naga stared at her, then at the contract.

"I know if you sign it, it'll be put to good use. So, do it already you big brat."

Naga ducked his head, rubbing his eyes with his arm. "Right," he sniffed. "How do I do it?"

Tsunade tapped the empty space next to the other words. "You need to sign your name here, in blood." She tapped the space below the names. "And add your finger print."

Naga froze. "My name?" he asked quietly.

"Just your first name is enough," Tsunade said.

Naga nodded. He bit down hard on his pointer finger, wincing as he broke the skin.

"Mimic the way the other names are written," Tsunade instructed.

Naga nodded and I leaned in, watching him slowly, carefully trace his name into the empty space. He spread the blood to his other fingers and added his handprint below it.

"What's that name?" I pointed to the first one.

"Mito Uzumaki," Tsunade said. "My grandmother."

I traced my finger over the second name. I couldn't read it that well, but I knew it was Tsunade.

"Now what do I do?" Naga asked.

Tsunade held up a hand. "You have to press all your fingers to the ground where you want to summon the slug and apply chakra. You also need blood, but you already have that."

"That's it?" Naga asked.

Tsunade smiled. She dropped her fist on top of his head, ruffling his hair with her knuckles. "That's it. You don't have much chakra left, so don't overdo it. Use as little as you can," she advised.

I could see Naga's smile. I shifted closer to watch.

He placed his hand flat on the ground and took a deep breath. A puff of smoke obscured his arm. When it cleared, a white slug was sitting in front of his hand. It had three blue stripes going down its back.

"Ooh," I said.

"You summoned Katsuyu," Tsunade observed, giving Naga a flat stare.

"Oh," Naga said, then fainted.

"Milady," the slug— _Katsuyu_ —greeted. Its tentacles turned towards Naga.

I looked to Tsunade, but she didn't seem worried.

"Is this the new summoner you've chosen?" she asked in a soft, polite voice. "I didn't expect you to find a new one so soon, milady."

"Well, I wasn't expecting him to summon you, Katsuyu," Tsunade said. "I thought it would be one of the younger ones, like Namekuji."

Katsuyu climbed on top of Naga and sat on his back. "It was quite an unusual amount of chakra that he used," she mused. "If I knew he was so young, perhaps I wouldn't have answered. It's always the young ones that have the worst control."

"You don't have to heal him," Tsunade said. "He just needs rest."

"You care for him a great deal, and so will I, milady." Katsuyu turned her tentacles. "And who's this?"

"His sister, Oka," Tsunade introduced. "You'll see her often. Along with those two." She gestured vaguely at Konan and Yahiko.

Katsuyu followed her hand. "For his sake, I hope I won't," she said. "I won't be of much use to him, I'm afraid, unless you plan to teach him Strength of a Hundred seal as well, milady?"

"Hello," I said. "I've never met a slug before."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. "Perhaps one day, you'll be our summoner as well."

My eyes widened. "I hope so."

"He's nowhere near ready for that," Tsunade admitted. "Unless it seems like an emergency, just don't answer his call, Katsuyu."

"Very well. I'll see who I can find that will be well-suited to him, milady."

"Thank you, Katsuyu."

"He should wake up soon. Until we meet again, Nagato."

**縄**

For the first time since Jiraya and Tsunade agreed to train us, I slept in. When I woke, there was enough light coming through the window that we didn't need to use a lantern to see, which meant it was early in the afternoon.

"We should look for them," Konan said as I stretched my arms above my head. She was pacing back and forth in front of the table.

Yahiko sat opposite of her, nibbling on the tail of a fish. He didn't say anything at all.

I padded to the small window behind Konan, peering out at the rain. I couldn't see the cards from there, but I could imagine them, the frog and the slug flipped to the white side.

"I'm worried too," Naga said. "I haven't seen Tsunade-sensei since early yesterday."

"Jiraya-sensei was here last night," Konan admitted. "But he wasn't this morning."

I went to the table and plopped down beside Yahiko. "Tsunade-sensei leaves for days all the time," I said, taking a small fish from a plate in the middle. It was cold, but I didn't mind.

"Yeah, but," Konan frowned. "Jiraya-sensei always trains us in the morning. _Always._ "

"Man, you slept for so long I thought we would have to splash water on you to get you up," Yahiko said with a grin.

"I didn't sleep that long," I protested.

"We should look for them," Naga agreed.

"What if something happened and they left a note at one of our usual places?" Konan asked.

"I could ask Namekuji if he knows anything," Naga said.

I looked to Yahiko, but he was staring at the bones of his fish. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Yahiko?" Konan asked. "What should we do?"

Yahiko glanced up.

"Were you even listening?"

He tossed the fish down. "Their stuff is gone," he finally said.

Konan stopped pacing. "What?"

I looked around and noticed it too. Jiraya's chest plate and arm guards, which were usually propped in the corner, were gone. He said it was easier to blend in without them.

"Tsunade-sensei kept a lot of stuff in the bathroom," Yahiko added. "All of it is gone."

Naga darted into the hallway and shoved open the door. I could hear him rummaging around and slamming things.

"They wouldn't just leave, would they?" Konan asked.

I waited for Yahiko to answer, but he didn't.

When Naga came out of the bathroom, his face fell. I pushed away from the table and went to him, hugging him as hard as I could.

"They didn't leave," I murmured. "They wouldn't."

It wasn't time for them to go yet. Yahiko still wasn't a god. But, if they had to leave…

Wouldn't they have at least said goodbye?

Yahiko stood. "Let's look for them anyway. In case they left a message."

**樹**

We found Jiraya standing on the bank beside our pond, staring up at the sky.

"So, you found me after all, eh?" he drawled.

"Jiraya-sensei," Konan said in relief. She turned to Yahiko. "See? You were wrong. He's still here, and I bet Tsunade-sensei is too."

Yahiko only looked at Jiraya and crossed his arms.

Jiraya turned around. A blue headband was tied around his forehead, and I recognized the swirly symbol representing his home, Konohagakure.

_The place with the endless sun._

And then he sighed. "I've got some bad news."

"Where's Tsunade-sensei?" Naga asked suddenly.

I took his hand.

"Yeah," Jiraya began. "About that." He paused, rubbing the back of his head. "Tsunade left for Konoha late last night. She received an urgent message from the Hokage a few days ago, but only got around to opening it yesterday. Her little brother was killed in the war. If I wasn't there when she read it she wouldn't have told me either."

Naga squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt.

Because of war.

It was all because of war.

How much did the war need to take before it was full and sick of death?

Mama. Papa. Chibi. Tsunade's brother.

"What's his name?" I asked.

Jiraya closed his eyes. "Nawaki. His name was Nawaki."

Konan sat heavily on the sand. She dropped her head in her hands. "Is it too much to hope you're staying, Jiraya-sensei?"

"I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but I received a missive too. I'm needed back home, and it's an order I can't refuse."

Yahiko was right.

"You can't," I said, because we needed them. We weren't strong enough to stop the war. Yahiko had only just started learning a water jutsu. I took a step forward. "You can't," I said again.

"With or without me, Yahiko will become a god of peace. I just know it," Jiraya said. He picked up a bag at his feet and slung it over his shoulder. "And you will all help him do it. Even you, little princess."

Naga turned his face away, gritting his teeth.

Jiraya's smile was sad. "I'll tell you a secret," he said. "I want to stay. I was finally starting to feel like I found my destiny here, but duty calls."

He turned around and lifted a hand. "Don't be sad. Be happy, because I'll see you again once you've achieved your dream. See you later."

I took another step forward, but Yahiko grabbed my hand. He shook his head.

"Oh, and I left a little something back at the house. Think of it as my goodbye gift," Jiraya said. I watched him walk away, and it hurt. It hurt so much. I clutched the front of my shirt and squeezed.

Naga's fists were clenched. He was breathing hard. Konan wrapped her arms around her legs.

Jiraya's silhouette disappeared.

"Why does everyone always go away?" I asked.

"Not everyone," Yahiko said. "You'll always have the three of us, little princess."

I frowned. "I'm not a princess."

"Of course you're not _a_ princess," Yahiko said. "You're _our_ princess."

He smiled like everything was okay, and I felt a tiny bit better. He turned. "Come on. Let's head back. We've still got a lot of work to do."

Konan raised her head. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red. "But Yahiko—"

"You still believe in me, right?" he interrupted her. "Remember? We're going to end the fighting and make it so no one will be threatened by war ever again." He held out his hand.

Konan stared. "I remember," she said softly. She shook her head, slapping her palms against her cheeks. "Right! No one will have to be afraid anymore, when we're done." She grasped his hand.

Yahiko's grin was radiant. He held his other hand out to Naga.

Naga turned further away. He was trying not to cry.

I looked across the pond. _He deserves better_ , I thought. There was something there, deep inside me. Something dark and nasty that grew bigger the more I thought about how much Naga's heart hurt. At least Jiraya said goodbye.

"A long time ago, I told you that we would make the world better together," Yahiko said. "But I can't do that if you're always crying. I need you with me. It'd all fall apart if I had to do it all alone."

"You wouldn't," Naga sniffed, shoulders hunching. "Konan would never let you be alone."

_He deserves so much better than this._

"Maybe," Yahiko admitted. "But I would feel a lot more alone if I lost one of my best friends."

Naga's head jerked his way. He stared, but Yahiko only smiled. After a moment Naga nodded and wiped his face. "You always know what to say," he murmured, taking the offered hand.

"You didn't know you were my best friend?"

"I knew," Naga said quietly. "But I felt so bad I forgot. I just needed you to remind me."

Yahiko slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. "I wanted them to stay longer, too," he admitted. "But I'm glad they stuck around as long as they did. It'll be hard on our own, but we'll do it like we always have." He shook his head. "I don't know if I can forgive them for hurting you two so much though."

Naga discreetly wiped his eyes again.

Yahiko looked apologetic as he looked over at me. "I wish I had another hand, Oka."

I smiled, shaking my head. "You made Naga happy again, so I'm happy."

Konan let go of Yahiko and moved to stand beside Naga. She took his hand. "Now your hand is free. I need to have another talk with Nagato anyway," she said sweetly. "Remind him of something."

Naga paled. I took Yahiko's hand.

"We won't go to Konoha," Yahiko said. "But I'll find you an even brighter sun, Oka. I promise."

I nodded. If he said it, then it would happen.

Yahiko tilted his head back. "We're going to change the world!" he shouted.

Konan cheered, and Naga nodded, smiling. "We will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 縄 - Rope , 樹 - Tree
> 
> Every day, the Ame Orphans break my heart a little more.


	10. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 1

"Raven hair like the night, riding the wind underneath,

We watch the dreary scenery,

Even standing here I couldn't understand a thing,

I couldn't even really properly come to grieve."

\- Häagen-Dazs Ika no Sappuukei, JubyPhonic

* * *

In front of me, a dirt path was covered with twisted bits of metal, pieces of concrete, and lots of shattered glass. Yesterday it had been a place for people to hide in with nowhere else to go. Yahiko had called it a skyscraper.

But War didn't care about that. It only care about its desire to ruin and ruin until there was nothing good left. There were people there, digging through the rubble with red-stained hands and ragged clothes, searching for anything they could salvage.

"Just wait," I said quietly, pulling my scarf down around my neck. The war would continue to take and destroy, but only until we were older. When we were stronger and Yahiko was finally, _finally_ a god of peace...

I looked up at the sky, staring at the gray clouds. "We'll start with the rain."

I turned away. There were only a few places that survived the battle yesterday. Some buildings had entire walls missing, while others were only the foundations of structures that had their tops destroyed. I peeked around a wall—the side walls were intact, but the front and door were gone—but it was filled with rainwater. A person in a beige flak-jacket floated in the middle, facedown, their weapons pouch and shoes stolen.

I picked wrong. I backed away and peeked into the building beside it. Holes peppered the walls, some smaller than my pinky, and others were big enough to climb through. Pockets of dim light shone on the floor, but couldn't penetrate the darkness in the corners of the room. I stepped up and inside, cupping my hands around my mouth.

"Hello?" I called.

The answer came in the form of a kunai, the point digging between my shoulder blades. I didn't move. "You're either a really brave kid, or a really stupid one," a gruff voice said behind me. "Now, tell my why you're here. Lie, and you won't like where this kunai ends up."

I thought of what Konan would do. I thought of what Yahiko would do. And I thought of Namekuji, who had a tiny piece of himself hidden beneath my scarf. It was too long, and even wrapped around my neck a few times the ends still fell down my back.

 _Protect her. Promise me,_ Naga had said, as Namekuji wedged himself deeply between the folds. I couldn't feel him at all.

"Because there's someone I need to help," I answered.

He paused. "That doesn't answer my question."

"That's why," I said, lifting my shoulders.

He shifted around to crouch in front of me, never moving the kunai away from my back. His eyes were slate-gray, flicking back and forth as he searched my gaze. "Who do you need to help?"

"Can't tell you," I said.

He stared and stared. Then he shook his head. "You're a shinobi," he guessed. "No civilian would talk that way to someone holding a kunai against their back."

I thought of the people I saw digging through the rubble. The hands, some smaller than mine, pushing aside pieces of metal with practiced ease and expertly patting down the dead. The tiny feet, stepping over and around crushed people without blinking. "You're wrong," I said, meeting his eyes. I might know how to use chakra and how to fight, but that wasn't why I wasn't scared.

I'd done this before. The explosive tag that killed Chibi and scarred Naga. The field, full of the wounded and the dead. The people the salamander swallowed alive, begging and screaming to live the whole way down. Being scared that Yahiko wouldn't come back, the pain I felt for Chibi, Mama, and Papa. So much fear, too much hurt.

I was in a different place and the threat was much closer, but I'd felt like this before. Powerless as I watched the vendors drag my brother away. Terrified as Naga got sicker and sicker and there was nothing I could do to help him. And that—it was before chakra. Before Tsunade and Jiraya. It was back when all I could do was sit back and watch, a pebble dropped into the ocean that was war.

I was still scared, I think. Scared that War would take Naga, Konan, and Yahiko away from me. Scared of the salamander. Scared to tell Naga that I didn't remember what Papa looked like anymore. I didn't have any fear leftover for this.

"You're wrong," I said again, because none of the little kids outside knew how to use chakra. They stained their hands and broke their bodies looking for anything they could use to survive. They wouldn't be afraid either.

"Am I?" he asked. A dark, ragged scar dragged up from the right side of his neck to the bottom of his chin. It was faded, but still stark against his pale skin. "About which part? Because only a shinobi would have shoes like yours."

I looked down. The sandals were too small now. My heels poked out of the back and my toes hung off the front, but they were the only shoes I had. "Anyone who lived this long wouldn't be scared," I answered.

He studied me. "You might talk big, but you had plenty of chances to attack me by now if you were an assassin," he said after a few seconds, then shook his head. "Then again, Hanzo would send a kid, the bastard," he added, almost to himself.

I tilted my head. "Hanzo?"

He squinted. "How old are you?"

"Dunno."

He squinted harder. "War orphan?"

I shrugged.

He hummed. Slowly, he moved his hand away from my back, holding the kunai up for me to see. After a second, he opened his palm. The kunai fell and clattered into a puddle at his feet. I blinked at it, then him.

He hummed again. "That was a test," he explained. "Either you're a really bad assassin, or a really good one—" He stopped suddenly, eyes bulging. I was drawn to a place over his shoulder. The walls were shifting, peeling like someone had sliced off the top layer with a knife.

The layer faded before it hit the ground and it reminded me of—

_He phased through the gunbai like a ghost._

"Kai," I said immediately, twisting my fingers into the dispelling seal. But by then, the illusion had already broken down on its down.

The man in front of me was gone. I heard heavy, labored breathing coming from the back corner of the room and looked over. The man was slumped against the wall, his left hand held up in the rat seal. He winced and dropped it a moment later, his hand hitting the floor with a thud.

Blood soaked his flak-jacket and left dry marks on the ground around him. A torn piece of clothing was tied tightly around his right shoulder. I looked down, at the empty space where his right arm was supposed to be.

"It's a hell of a thing, genjustu," he panted. "But it drains chakra like nothing else." There was a diagonal cut in the middle of his face, right between his eyebrows.

The cloth was completely red. He was paler than before, covered in sweat and dust. Even this didn't compare to what I'd already seen. I sat, crossing my legs. "I'm Oka," I said, friendly. "What's your name?"

He closed his eyes. "I'm going to die here, anyway," he muttered. He opened them. "Call me Mamoru, strange little girl."

"I'm not strange," I sniffed.

Mamoru gazed at me. "You know, if I were anyone else, you'd be dead by now. At least three times over."

"Sorry mister Mamoru," Namekuji wriggled out from my scarf. "But you're wrong about that too."

Namekuji crawled up my cheek—ignoring my sputtering—and settled on top of my head. Mamoru stiffened, his eyes alert in a way they hadn't been before.

"Is your summoner the same person Oka wouldn't tell me about before?" Mamoru asked carefully.

"No," Namekuji answered.

"It's me."

Mamoru's hand went for the pouch strapped to his side. Pain seized his expression as he leaned forward, clutching his shoulder. He groaned.

Above him, in the opposite corner, Konan sat in a hole in the wall, swinging her feet. "Just kidding," she chimed. "I'd want a bird summon. Those are way cooler."

I shuddered as I wiped slime off my cheek. "I told you to stop doing that."

"You did," Namekuji agreed.

Mamoru grimaced deeply. He eyed Konan. "Any more surprises I should know about?" he asked, glancing back at me.

I smiled and held up two fingers. "Just two."

Yahiko dropped down first, appearing neatly beside me from a hole in the ceiling. Naga ducked through the hole I used to get in, Namekuji's main body peeking up from his back. He was half the length of my arm and _heavy_ , but Naga didn't think so.

I waved as he came closer. His eyes were still worried as he knelt in front of me. "I'm fine," I insisted, before he could speak. I held my arms up and flapped them. "See?"

Naga's smile was a small one. Before he could say anything, Mamoru chuckled. "Just make it quick."

"We're not here for that," Yahiko said, lacing his hands behind his head. "We're here because I want you to be our sensei."

Mamoru stared at him. Then he laughed so hard he choked. "Look, kid, I don't know what you thought would happen here but," he gestured to his missing arm. "Clearly, I'm not in the state to be anyone's sensei."

Yahiko looked at said arm as if noticing it for the first time. He nodded. "We can fix that. We have a medic-nin," he said. "His name is Nagato. He'll fix you up and then you can be our sensei." He looked over and Mamoru followed his gaze to Naga.

Mamoru blinked. "After I'm gone," he began. "Do me a favor and destroy my body. I don't care how you do it, but it shouldn't be too hard between the four of you."

Yahiko smiled faintly. "Let's make a deal," he said. "If Nagato saves you, you have to teach us everything you know."

Mamoru eyed Naga again. "What do I have to lose?" he asked himself, shaking his head. He smiled without humor. "But, when he fails, you have to get rid of me. That's my end of the deal."

"Deal," Yahiko said.

Naga swallowed. He straightened and grabbed Yahiko by the shoulder. "I don't know if I can," he said quietly, sneaking a glance at Mamoru. "I've never tried to heal a person before—"

"'Course you can," Yahiko cut him off. "I wouldn't have made that deal if I thought, even a little, that you couldn't do this. I know you can."

Naga's eyes widened.

"I believe in you too," Konan spoke. She grinned.

"Me three," I chirped.

Naga looked between us. After a second he smiled, shaking his head. "I'm going to do this," he said firmly.

"Go, Nagato!" Konan cheered.

Naga dropped his hand and strode forward, crouching on Mamoru's right side. "Try and stay still," he instructed. There was a determined glint in his eye as he pulled off the makeshift bandage, even as Mamoru squeezed his eyes shut. Nagato's fingers were stained red as the last of it hit the ground.

"Need help?" Namekuji asked.

"Can you numb the nerves around here?" Naga asked. "It's going to hurt a lot."

As Namekuji slithered off Naga's shoulder and onto Mamoru's, I stood. "Is it dangerous to bring him back to the hideout?" I asked Yahiko.

"A little," he admitted. "But living with Jiraya-sensei and Tsunade was way more dangerous."

Naga's hand's glowed green. Disbelief flashed in Mamoru's eyes.

"Because they were from somewhere else?" I asked.

Yahiko made a noncommittal noise. "Kind of," he said. "It was more because they didn't have permission to be here. They were supposed to leave right after the leader here let them go."

I hummed. "Who's the leader here?"

"Hanzo," he answered. "But everyone calls him Hanzo the Salamander."

Did that mean that the salamander from before belonged to Hanzo? Was it a summon like Namekuji? "Mamoru called him a bastard," I informed him.

Yahiko tapped his chin, nodding. "Huh."

Before I could ask him more about Hanzo the bastard and his salamander, Konan hopped down and landed in front of us. "Don't teach her to use words like that."

"I _didn't_!"

"Maybe, but you didn't stop her," she said, hands on her hips. "You enabled her."

Yahiko shook his head. "I bet you don't even know what that means."

Konan turned red. "I do too!"

"Right."

"It _means_ that you're letting her do stuff she's not supposed to do," Konan huffed.

"That's not what it means."

"That is _so_ what it means."

While they bickered, I pulled the small segment of Namekuji off my head. I could feel the slime in my hair. "Need something, Oka?" he asked, twisting his tentacles to look at me. A purple stripe ran down his back, though there were two, side-by-side, on his main body.

"I'm giving you back," I said, going over to Naga—his eyes were closed, and he spoke quietly to Namekuji. Mamoru wasn't moving, his head hanging limp. I held the tiny piece of Namekuji over his main body. He slipped through my fingers and fell into his main body like a drop of water falling into a pool.

I blinked at the thought, frowning at the sticky feeling on my hands. What was a pool? My brow furrowed.

The lake came to mind first, but that didn't feel right.

"Thanks for that," Namekuji said. The thought slipped away as I looked up. "Now shoo. We need to concentrate."

I shook slime onto the floor. "Mean," I sniffed.

"Yeah, yeah," Namekuji said dismissively. "I'll steal an apple for you later to make it up to you."

I stuck out my tongue in disgust. By steal, he meant absorb one into his body while the vendors were distracted. The apples he stole were always soggy and rotten. Even Yahiko wouldn't eat those.

"I'll have _Nagato_ steal one," he amended. "Now go over there and make those two shut up already."

Sufficiently bribed, I left him and Naga alone.

**先生**

"I knew you could do it," Yahiko praised.

He had one hand around Naga's shoulder, the other wrapped around his side. Naga sagged in his grip, his hair falling in his face. Yahiko patted him. "I think you deserve something after that. What do you want? Fish stew? A promotion?"

Naga groaned at him.

Konan raised an eyebrow. "You already gave him a promotion. I thought he was equal to us now."

"I was _trying_ to give him something to look forward to."

Konan looked unimpressed. "You know, if you promote him again, you'll be _his_ employee."

Yahiko glanced at Naga, reconsidering. "Fish stew it is."

Konan covered her mouth but couldn't completely hide her smile.

I took Naga's limp hand and squeezed, but he didn't respond. "Would keeping Namekuji have helped or hurt Naga?" I asked.

A little after he started fixing Mamoru, I fell asleep. When I woke up, Namekuji was gone. Naga used up almost all his chakra and didn't have any left over to keep Namekuji here.

It was dark now, and only tiny slivers of light came in through the holes. "Hurt," Yahiko answered.

"Helped," Konan said a second after.

"How would—"

"For emotional support," she added before Yahiko could finish.

Mamoru groaned. I looked back and he was sitting up, staring at us. Dark circles lined his eyes and he was drenched in sweat, but he was still alive. Naga had wrapped the cloth back around Mamoru's shoulder once he was done, but he wasn't bleeding anymore.

"Why?" he asked, voice rough and raspy. "You tracked me here and wouldn't let me die— _for what_?" He shifted, closing his eyes as drops of rain hit his face. "All this because you wanted a Sensei? I'm not anyone special. I don't have some secret technique, or a bloodline limit, or whatever else you think—"

"That's not it," Yahiko said. His voice was different. Gone was the playful edge he held with Konan. This was _Yahiko,_ the boy who would become a god. He lowered Naga to sit against the wall and took a step forward, crouching in front of Mamoru. "All I needed to know was that you were a shinobi. You weren't the first person we asked, or the second, or the third. But you were the first to pay attention to Oka."

"You treated her like a shinobi from the start. All the others ignored her, wrote her and us off as stupid kids before we could even talk to them," Yahiko went on. Mamoru stared at him. "You put a genjutsu over this place so you could hide, right? You didn't have to show yourself, but you did."

"I couldn't take the chance," Mamoru said back. "Any assassin worth their salt would check for a genjutsu first."

"But she didn't," Yahiko replied, holding his gaze. "You didn't think she was an assassin, or you would've attacked her."

Mamoru shook his head. "I had to be sure. I don't go around killing kids for fun."

"Still," he insisted. "You could've told her to leave you alone or to go away, but you didn't. You let her stay. You told her your name. The second you let her go, I knew you would be our sensei."

Mamoru closed his eyes again. "Would she have gone, if I told her to?"

"Yes," Yahiko said without hesitation.

"And what would've happened if I didn't let her go? You did all this—risked her _life_ , on a gamble?"

"We would've stopped you."

"Oh?" Mamoru asked, giving him a cool look. "You're sure about that?"

"I know how we look," Yahiko said after a moment. "Just another group of war orphans with dirty clothes too small for us and no one to care about us. We look like we're nothing. But we're not." He hooked a thumb at himself. "I'm a shinobi of Amegakure. My friends are shinobi. We didn't come here on a whim, and we didn't do it without a plan."

Mamoru's gaze slid to Naga, slumped against the wall. "A 'shinobi of Amegakure', huh?" He refocused on Yahiko. "Weirdly talented kids or not, I think you might be underestimating me a little."

"I'm not," Yahiko said. "You can tell who's dangerous around here just by looking at them. I don't send Oka to talk to them. You were hurt badly and low on chakra. That's how I know that if we had to fight, I would've won."

Mamoru blinked. "You saw through the genjutsu?" he asked, incredulous.

Yahiko shook his head. "Nagato and Konan did. Nagato found your chakra, and Konan saw that you had used almost all of it all up."

Konan stepped up behind Yahiko and Mamoru gazed up at her, eyes slightly wide. "Nagato's better at finding people over a big area," she explained with a smile. "But he's not so precise. We couldn't see you because of the genjutsu, but we knew you were here."

Mamoru continued to stare at her with the same disbelief he'd regarded Naga with.

Yahiko pressed a thumb hard against his own chest. "I'm going to be a god one day," he said, with all the confidence of someone who had absolute certainty they would. "I'll be a god of peace and I'm going to end the war. I'll make it so no one will ever be hurt because of it again. No more suffering, and no more death." He dropped his hand, looking up at the rain. "This place is always crying because of the war. That's why I'll make it stop. When I'm a god, I'll bring back the sun."

Mamoru slowly shook his head.

"But I'm not strong enough. Not yet," Yahiko admitted. "That's why I want you to help us. That's why _it doesn't matter_ what kind of shinobi you are. I know you're strong, because you're still alive. That's all we need."

Mamoru glanced at his injured shoulder. "I must be getting old," he said after a few seconds. He shook his head again. "Why do I believe you?"

"Because we're going to do it," Yahiko said firmly. "We're going to bring peace back to the world."

"'Peace'," he repeated, quietly. "Why do you make it sound so easy?"

"It's not," Konan spoke. Mamoru tilted his head at her. "Or it won't be," she amended. "If it was as easy as making everyone stop fighting, someone would have done it already. But—But it doesn't matter if it'll be hard. Yahiko's going to become a god and we'll help him do it because he says so! Because he believes it, more than anything else in the world," she paused.

"Because it's my dream too and I believe in it _more_ than he does! I believe that I'll be able to stand in the middle of Amegakure one day and see people smiling and unafraid. The people of this village will finally be able to be kind and happy. When that day comes, the war won't be able to take people away anymore, because we'll have stopped it." Konan took a step back, looking surprised at herself.

Even Yahiko was staring at her. Konan shook her head, her surprise turning to determination. "That's why it'll happen," she said, staring Mamoru head on. "Because we believe it will. And that's all we need."

"Okay, okay," Mamoru said, holding up his hand. "I was never going to back out of our deal, if that's what you thought. I owe the four of you my life," he admitted. "And... now I'm curious to see how you turn out in the end."

Konan beamed. Yahiko stood. "We should head back," he said. He pulled Naga's arm back over his shoulder and dragged him up. "The shinobi who did that to Mamoru-sensei will come back to finish the job. We can't be here when they do."

"Where are we heading back to?" Mamoru asked casually.

"Secret," Konan chirped.

"Of course," he said with a shake of his head. He tried to push himself up, only to fall back with a grimace. Yahiko glanced at Konan and she nodded. She strode over to Mamoru and bent down, guiding his arm over her shoulder.

"You can lean against me, okay?" she said, helping him stand.

"Thanks," he grunted. "What happened to your old sensei?"

Konan paused. Her eyes darkened, just a little.

I stood and patted myself off. "They left," I answered.

"We don't like to talk about it," Konan added, forcing a smile.

"Oka? You're our lookout," Yahiko said. "Stay close."

"I knoooow," I drawled.

Yahiko hummed. "You do, huh? What if you see someone following us?"

I tapped my chin, deeply considering the question, "Throw mud at you."

Yahiko did not look amused. "Do you know how hard it is to wash out mud?" he asked. "No, you don't, because no one has ever thrown mud at _you._ "

Konan giggled. "The first time was an accident, Yahiko."

"'The first time'," he repeated blandly.

"I'm sure the second time was an accident too. Right, Oka?"

"It gets _everywhere,_ " Yahiko complained. "I think I washed it all off, but no, more mud."

" _Right,_ Oka?" Konan asked again, with an edge this time.

I smiled. "Yep," I chirped. "The second throw was supposed to hit you, not Yahiko."

" _What,_ " Konan sputtered as Yahiko continued to lament about the mud he still believed was hiding in his hair.

I laughed and focused chakra to my palms and soles, scrambling up the wall before Konan could decide whether she wanted to chase after me or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 先生 - Teacher  
> Happy holidays! I'm terrible about responding to reviews, but I read each and every one of them.


	11. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 2

"No matter if I search our darkest days,

And no matter if I curse the lack of change,

These words that dance up across the sky,

Will not be enough to save you at all."

-veil, Studio Yuraki

* * *

I sat beside Mamoru-sensei, looking over his prone form. Halfway to the hideout, he started to pass out again. He made it just inside before Konan couldn't carry him anymore and he hit the floor. He was facedown, and I watched his chest rise and fall.

"Is he okay?" I asked, poking his side. Mamoru's fingers twitched.

Namekuji slithered closer and climbed on top of him. I glanced back. Naga was curled up against the back wall, a brown blanket thrown over him. It was old and spotted with holes, but it helped to keep the cold away. Naga had woken up just long enough to insist on re-summoning Namekuji in case anything happened, then fell back asleep.

"No, not really," Namekuji said. "But he's not _dying._ Nagato did his best. He closed the wound and patched the worst of the damage. The rest will have to heal on its own."

"How long will that take?" I asked.

"Hard to say. It was a bad wound. You sure you want this one as your sensei, boy-wonder?"

On the other side of the room, Yahiko bit into a half-rotted peach. "You don't have to call me that. I answer to Yahiko, or," he let the silence linger, a slow grin spreading across his face. "God."

Namekuji decided to sit on the back of Mamoru's head. "Yeah, yeah, boy-wonder," he dismissed. "You gonna answer the question or not?"

"I don't think I like your tone," Yahiko said back.

Namekuji's tentacles shrunk a bit, which was the same as an eye-roll. "Oh, glorious leader, would you tell me why Nagato and I went through so much trouble to save this one-armed man? Please, _Yahiko_ ," he said.

I giggled. Yahiko ignored me and pretended not to notice that Namekuji was oozing sarcasm. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you," he took another bite. "We've learned everything we can on our own. We need someone to teach us stuff no one else will, like new jutsu—"

"No, not that part," Namekuji interrupted. "Was _this one_ the best choice for that? I'm sure there are lots of less injured shinobi roaming around Amegakure who won't kill Oka on sight."

"It wasn't just that he didn't attack Oka," Yahiko explained. "He activated that complicated genjutsu with only one hand. I've never heard of anyone else who can do that."

"Yeah, but, _one-hand_ ," Namekuji emphasized. "How is he supposed to put on clothes like you do, or cook or fight or do _anything._ "

Yahiko blinked. "He can use his other hand," he pointed out. "And if he couldn't fight with one hand, he wouldn't have gotten away."

"Well," Namekuji faltered. "How am I supposed to know that? I don't have arms."

Yahiko stroked his chin. "That _is_ a good point."

"You guys use them all the time for everything. They seem pretty essential," Namekuji said, turning his tentacles doubtfully down at Mamoru.

"Not everything," I said. "We do plenty of things one-handed."

"No, you don't," Namekuji denied.

"We throw shuriken with one hand."

"Another excellent point," Yahiko agreed, wiping juice off his chin with the back of his hand.

"You don't do _many_ things one-handed," Namekuji amended.

"It doesn't matter if he's missing an arm, or a leg, or something else," Yahiko said. "He adapted to his injury to survive. That's what people do. What would you do if someone cut you in half?"

"I would split into two parts?" Namekuji answered, confused.

Yahiko took this in stride, nodding. "And what if you couldn't split?"

"Why wouldn't I be able to split?" Namekuji asked, even more confused.

"What if the enemy was holding you with their chakra so you couldn't split easily?" Yahiko asked, revising the question as he popped the last of the peach in his mouth.

"I would de-summon myself?"

Yahiko stared up at the roof.

"What if the enemy was using lightning natured chakra?" I asked.

Namekuji 'looked' at me. "Why would that matter?"

"What _if,_ " I stressed. "You couldn't leave or Naga would be in danger?"

Namekuji didn't immediately answer. "I would..." he trailed off. "I don't know."

Yahiko slammed a fist against his palm. "We're making progress."

"I finally finished it!" Konan said. She appeared out of the hallway, holding my old flower crown delicately between her hands. It had started to wilt, the last time I looked at it, the edges turning a wrinkled yellow.

But whatever Konan had done made it look brand new again. It looked a little bigger too. "What did you do?" I asked, standing.

Konan only smiled. She came closer and knelt in front of me, carefully placing the flower crown on top of my head. "A crown, for the Princess," she announced dramatically.

I reached up to touch it. It was soft, and I liked to think that was what real flowers felt like. "But I can't wear it outside."

The look she gave me—her happiness was infectious. I couldn't help but grin back at her. "Now you can," she said. "Know why? 'Cause I made it waterproof!"

My eyes widened. "You did?"

Konan pressed a hand over her heart. "I did. How else would the people here know of the royalty among them?"

I laughed and wrapped my arms around her neck. "Thank you!"

**開始**

Konan, Yahiko, Naga and I stood on the surface of the pond, while Mamoru stood on the bank, just out of the water's reach. He'd traded his flak-jacket for a simple dark green shirt with baggy sleeves. He sold his headband too but wouldn't tell us where.

"If I'm really going to be your sensei, I need to see what you know first," he said. "And this doubles to prove that you're not all just talk. Especially you, Yahiko. You might be one hell of a charismatic kid, but if you're really going to become a god of peace, your actions need to speak as loud as your words. So, show me your strongest technique, jutsu, or whatever else is in your arsenal."

Yahiko grinned. "Got it." Without hesitation, he flipped through hand-signs. If I hadn't seen him do it dozens of times, they would've been too fast to follow. Dragon. Tiger. Hare. He took a deep breath and water made his cheeks puff up.

A second later it burst from his mouth like a waterfall, shooting towards Mamoru. Sensei held his hand up to shield his face as it crashed into him, knees bending as he held his ground. Konan cried out as water sprayed back at us, throwing her hands up.

Namekuji hid behind my brother, who coughed and fanned the water away. I held a hand over my eyes, but otherwise didn't move. The water surged against Mamoru. It didn't look like it was moving him, but I knew it would. I believed in Yahiko's power.

Yahiko's eyes narrowed, just slightly. The water intensified, creating a stronger spray of mist as it clashed against Mamoru's body. Still, he didn't move. Yahiko held the jutsu for four seconds, and then the water sputtered out. He took a step back and dropped to one knee, breathing hard.

I slowly lowered my hand. I watched Mamoru's feet, waiting for the water to dissipate away. It took a few long, _long_ seconds before I could see the marks where Mamoru's sandals dug into the mud as he was pushed back. It was only two feet—but he did it. I threw my arms up and cheered.

Konan knelt beside Yahiko, a hand on his shoulder. Namekuji cautiously peeked out over Naga's shoulder and thanked him for being a good meat shield.

Mamoru glanced down at the marks, then up at Yahiko. "So, you're not all talk," he said, shaking the mud off his sandals. He sounded reluctantly impressed.

Yahiko's laugh was wheezy. "Damn right I'm not." He stood, wiping his mouth. He shot me quick grin.

The longer Mamoru watched him, the more he seemed to realize something. "You used up all your chakra in that attack?" he asked, incredulous.

"I wanted to make an impression," Yahiko said. "Did I?"

Mamoru didn't answer that. His eyes flicked to Konan. "You, less strange girl," he said. "You're next."

I huffed.

Konan straightened. "Nagato?" she asked, turning towards him with a smile.

Naga pulled out a kunai from a pocket he'd stitched into his pants, spinning it around his finger. "Ready."

"Can't I just spit acid at her?" Namekuji asked.

"Please don't," Konan said. "Okay. Do it. I'm ready."

Naga threw the kunai. It would've struck Konan in the chest—had she not burst into a fluttering spiral of paper before it touched her. Naga pulled another out and tossed it before she fully reformed, but it only sailed through the folds of her paper body and sunk into the water behind her.

Naga threw a handful of shuriken with the same result. Konan pulled the paper back into herself, her body folding together like a giant work of origami. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

I clapped.

Konan laughed and spun towards me. She curtsied, holding out the edges of her imaginary dress. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Oka."

Mamoru was silent. He pointed at her. "How did you do that?"

Konan spun again to face him. "That's a secret too, Mamoru-sensei."

He didn't seem surprised with that answer. He scratched the back of his head. "Strange, extremely talented kids," he muttered to himself. He shook his head and glanced at Naga, then me. "You're up," he said.

Naga paused. "Not me?"

"You showed me all I need to see from you already," Mamoru said. His empty sleeve fluttered at his side.

"Konan," Yahiko said. "Spar with her." He ambled over and leaned a hand against Naga's shoulder.

Naga frowned at him. "I can do it."

Yahiko shook his head. "You'll go easy on her and the way I am now, I'll collapse before she can hit me. It has to be Konan."

"You okay with that, Oka?" Konan asked.

I glanced at sensei. He was barefoot, using his toes to wash his sandals in the pond. "'Course I am," I said.

Naga sighed. "Okay—"

Yahiko took a step back and sat heavily on the water. He pressed a hand against the surface, his arm shaking. "So this is what it feels like to go past my limits," he said to himself, almost too quiet for me to hear.

Namekuji dropped away from Naga and landed squarely in Yahiko's lap. Yahiko blinked down at him.

"You don't look very grateful," Namekuji tutted. "I'm the only thing standing between you being on top of the water and you being under it. Were you going to keep using chakra to water-walk until you died, or what?"

"I wanted to see Oka win," Yahiko defended himself. I'd never seen Yahiko this tired, but it had been a long time since he tried to impress anyone like this.

Konan didn't take his bait. She glanced uneasily at Mamoru. "Should we keep going?" she asked.

"It's not that bad," Naga reassured her. He grabbed Yahiko by the arm and hauled him up, Namekuji sticking to his stomach.

Konan looked dubiously at Yahiko.

"It's pretty bad," Namekuji disagreed.

"He just needs sleep," Naga insisted.

"All of that he brought on himself," Mamoru said with a dismissive shake of his head. "Keep going."

I waited until Naga half-dragged Yahiko onto solid land and laid him down on the sand before turning back to Konan. "I won't go easy on you," I announced, dropping into a mixture of the three styles I'd been taught to fight in.

Naga, hesitant and careful, never made the first move. He kept his hands tucked in, close to his face. Konan, precise and unpredictable, had a looser stance. She liked to keep her arms away from her body to use the paper hidden up her sleeves. Yahiko, who hit hard and fast, kept his body low, his vitals protected. Unless he knew his opponent, he didn't like to make the first move either.

My body was loose and relaxed, one hand held close, the other out.

"Me neither," Konan said. "Just don't be too mad at me when I win."

I didn't know any elemental ninjutsu. No one I knew had earth-natured chakra. Naga only knew one wind-style jutsu, and that was only because he'd seen a shinobi in a red flak-jacket do it and Namekuji remembered the hand-signs. Konan used her wind chakra in her paper. That left me with taijutsu. It was the only thing I was good at, other than shurikenjutsu, but that didn't really count.

Seeing that I wasn't making the first move, Konan rushed forward. I waited until she made it halfway before I ran to meet her. I was smaller, weaker. I would still win. Konan threw an arm out and paper slipped free of her sleeves.

I spun out of the way of the paper shuriken, twisting to face her. She was there—in front of me, her hand raised in a fist. In the moment she reminded me of Tsunade.

I planted my feet and threw myself at her. The fist came down—off-kilter, but it still hurt bad when it connected with my shoulder. It would bruise later. My small arms latched around her waist, pushing as hard as I could to knock her over. Instead, she burst into paper and my hands were empty. I fell, landing hard on the pond.

I pushed myself up. Konan was reforming. I kicked off the water and ran, channeling Yahiko as I planted my left foot and twisted, swinging my right heel through the paper. Konan scattered again.

I grinned even as I fell, wide and wolfish. My elbows hurt, but I got up again. I lunged at her, only to fall through her paper projection again. By now, Konan caught onto what I was doing. She didn't have enough chakra to stay paper forever.

I would beat her in a game of endurance, every time. If she wanted to beat me, she would have to take a hit—and, eventually, she did just that. Konan stumbled back with a cough as my foot collided with her stomach, fighting not to double-over. She was breathing heavily, but her lips quirked up into a smile when she looked at me.

My grin widened. I went for her ankles next, and Konan keeled over with a sharp cry. She was laughing as she landed, lying flat on her back.

"I win," I said.

"I didn't give up," Konan pointed out.

I stood up and decided to stand on her.

"Ack! Ow, ow, that hurts, Oka," she twisted, but I didn't move.

"I know," I assured her.

" _Ow._ Okay, okay, I give up!" She was laughing again.

I stepped off her.

Konan held a hand over her stomach. "I don't think Mamoru-sensei learned anything about you from this," she whispered, as if telling me a secret. "Other than that you're vicious and cruel."

I sat beside her, inspecting my scraped elbows. "Not my fault. You didn't fight me seriously."

"I did!" she protested. "At first."

"We're going to fight again," I decided. "For real."

"Right now?" Konan squeaked.

I turned and stared at her. "Right now."

**オーバー**

I hummed as I leaned over the table, holding a plank still with one hand while I painted the back red with the other. It was covered with bumps and grooves, and a little too big, but it was the closest Naga could find to the planks Jiraya painted for us.

Yahiko had traded two small fish for a handful of red paint and one big fish for a cupful of white paint. I dipped a finger into what was left of the red paint and smeared it over a brown spot.

"When the hideout burns down, I'm going to remind you of this moment," Konan said.

She sat on a counter in the 'kitchen'. Below her, Yahiko crouched over a small black pot filled with cut pieces of fish, water, and half a tomato. A fire simmered beneath it. One Yahiko started from all the planks of wood that weren't good enough to be painted.

"So negative all the time," Yahiko said, seemingly to his pot. "No wonder she can't cook."

Konan flushed. "You started a _fire_ in the middle of the hideout with no protection just so you can cook _stew._ "

"I promised Nagato," Yahiko said, looking up.

"He doesn't even remember that," Konan pointed out.

Naga sat beside me, leaning an elbow on the table. He smiled but didn't join their argument.

Mamoru, across from us, shook his head. "Don't they get tired of arguing?"

"No," Naga and I answered at the same time.

"There's plenty of protection," Yahiko went on, ignoring what she said. He gestured to the rocks he put in a circle around the fire. "When did you become so paranoid, Konan?"

"It's not paranoia," she said. "It's a real, justified fear."

Yahiko stirred his fish stew with an old fork. "I didn't know you had such a crippling fear of fire."

"I _don't_ ," Konan said. "I'm only afraid of it when it's in your hands."

Yahiko turned and gave her a flat stare. "I have water-natured chakra, you know."

"So?"

Yahiko sighed deeply. "I try to do something nice for a friend and I get so much _sass_ ," he told his soup.

I flipped the plank over, holding it against my palm to keep the paint from staining the table. I tapped my cheek. "What should I draw for Mamoru-sensei?" I asked Naga.

Naga turned. He blinked at me and reached out, attempting—and failing—to wipe the paint off my cheek. He glanced at the blank side of the plank. "Hmm," he said. "Any thoughts, Mamoru-sensei?"

Mamoru was still watching Yahiko and Konan. He stared blankly at the plank, then lifted his gaze to Naga. "What is it for?"

"It's a secret," I chirped, mimicking Konan.

Mamoru's expression didn't change.

Naga pulled the plank out of my grip, holding the edges with the tip of his fingers. "It's a system to detect imposters," he explained. "If this is turned to the red side, it means the person it belongs to is here. If it's flipped to the white side, that person isn't in the hideout. But Oka hasn't drawn that side for yours yet." He handed it back.

Despite his efforts, there was red paint on his fingers.

"You're burning it," Konan pointed out.

Yahiko stirred faster. "Does doing this make you happy?" he asked.

Naga sniffed. He pushed away from the table and went over to them. He crouched beside Yahiko and put a hand on his shoulder. "I think you _are_ burning it," he said solemnly.

Yahiko paused. "This is how it's supposed to smell," he protested.

Naga shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "It's not."

"You _love_ this smell!"

Naga patted him. "Let it go," he said gently.

Yahiko looked between him and the pot. He backed off and Naga took his place to try and salvage the stew. He plopped down next to me.

I tried not to let him see my smile.

"Don't laugh at me, Oka. Your brother broke my heart," Yahiko said, seeing it anyway.

I patted his head. "It's okay if you're a bad cook. I can't cook either."

Yahiko's stare couldn't have been flatter.

"At least I've never burned soup," Konan said, sticking her tongue out at him.

Yahiko groaned and dropped his head on the table.

I held the blank side of the plank out to him. "What should I draw?" I asked.

"My misery," he said.

I looked at the plank. "What does that look like?"

Yahiko waved his arms vaguely.

I consulted the plank again. "I still don't know what to draw," I told him.

Yahiko groaned again.

"Namekuji," Konan called in alarm, hopping off the counter. "Don't go on the table. Please, _please_ don't go on the table."

I glanced down. Namekuji was halfway up the table leg closest to me. Konan had commandeered all our clothes that didn't fit anymore and laid them in paths on the floor so Namekuji didn't leave slime everywhere.

He turned to look at her. "Why not?"

Konan knelt next to the table—beside Yahiko's old pants—and clasped her hands together. "Because it takes ages to clean. _Please._ "

Namekuji seemed to consider that. Then Konan suddenly tumbled backwards with a muffled shriek, a slug abruptly attached to her face. Between one blink and the next, Namekuji had launched himself at her. "You're welcome," he told her.

Yahiko laughed so hard he tumbled off the table and hit the floor.

Mamoru looked somewhere between amused and heavily disturbed.

Naga didn't turn around, though his shoulders were shaking.

I stood up as Konan rolled on the ground to try and dislodge him. Planting a foot on her side to keep her still as she shouted gibberish, I wrapped my arms around Namekuji and lifted him. He came off easily, and I stumbled back under his weight. Though if he didn't want to come off, he wouldn't have, no matter how much I tugged or pulled at him.

"Don't be mean," I said.

"She said to get off the table. I got off the table," Namekuji said.

"She didn't mean to go on her face," I chastised him. With effort, I returned to the table. I plopped him down in my lap as I sat.

"Well," Namekuji huffed. "She should've been more specific."

For the third time, I picked up the plank. "What should I draw?" I asked, shaking it a little more aggressively than I meant to.

Namekuji made himself comfortable in my lap. "It's for that one-armed guy, right? Why not... one arm?"

I dropped the plank and gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 開始 - Starting, オーバー - Over
> 
> My original idea for the last scene involved a serious discussion. But then my brain spiraled, as it does.  
> Oh, by the way:  
> Yahiko - 10/11  
> Nagato/Konan - 9/10  
> Oka - 6/7


	12. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 3

"I get it,

It's no good like this.

Is it fine to believe in

My "future self" that I discovered

With these eyes?"

-Niji, Shinku Horou

* * *

"Lesson Three," Mamoru began. "Never take your opponent at face value. Always assume your enemy is either a clone, an imposter, or is hiding something that will give them the edge in battle."

In front of him, Naga and Yahiko were in the middle of an all-out spar. Mamoru stood on the water, far enough away to avoid being hit with a stray projectile, but close enough to see everything that happened.

I sat behind him on the grass at the edge of the lake, my legs in the water. The surface glimmered with silver-green scales. Groups of smaller fish had been scared to my corner of the lake and I felt smooth, silky bodies tickling my legs and surging around my feet. The bigger fish were more confident and swam around underneath Naga, unperturbed as he leapt backwards and a stream of water crashed against the surface where he'd been standing.

Lightning-fast, Yahiko pulled a shuriken out of a pouch strapped to his side and threw it before Naga landed, forcing him to block with a kunai. I stretched a hand towards a fish swimming close enough that I could see its black pupils, but it darted away before I could touch it.

Naga lost. I knew it the second his eyes shifted off Yahiko to follow the path of the shuriken. Yahiko had closed the distance between them when I looked up again, before the deflected kunai could hit the water.

Naga's head jerked up and he just barely got his arms up in time to block a punch. Yahiko grinned. His foot connected with Naga's side, and I heard the breath leave his lungs as he stumbled and nearly fell. I winced in sympathy. Yahiko kicked _hard._

He managed to keep his hands up, but didn't use the kunai in his left as Yahiko came at him again.

"Why isn't he fighting back?" Mamoru asked without turning around.

Naga took a quick step to the side and Yahiko's fist passed over his shoulder. The punch was too wide. Yahiko's momentum carried him forward, exposing his middle and right side to a counterattack. It wasn't how Yahiko usually fought at all.

I frowned. He was doing it on purpose.

Still, hesitation flashed in Naga's eyes. He flipped the kunai in his hand so the point faced Yahiko, but froze, his body rigid.

"Because he doesn't want to hurt Yahiko," I answered. It was why Naga worried so much about me, why he shoved the kunai in his pocket and leapt back, putting distance between him and Yahiko. He didn't want the people he loved to hurt, and he especially didn't want to be the one causing them to hurt.

Naga threw his hands up and flipped through hand-signs. Snake. Ram. Boar. Horse. Bird—

Yahiko yanked his hands apart and shoved Naga down, hard enough to rock the water Mamoru stood on. The fight was over. I stood as Yahiko rolled off Naga and laid on the water beside him.

"Is it Yahiko?" Mamoru asked himself, rubbing his chin. "Or is it a dislike for harming others in general?"

I shrugged. If it was a stranger in Yahiko's place, would Naga still hesitate? I didn't know. I moved closer to Naga and Yahiko.

"You won't hurt me like you think you will," Yahiko said, gaze on the sky.

I quietly knelt next to Naga, across from Yahiko.

Naga had a hand draped over his eyes. "You don't know that," he said quietly. "I could use too much chakra, or my hand could slip, or—"

Yahiko laughed a little. "You have better chakra control than me," he said. "You'll never use too much by accident."

Naga 's lips twitched as he fought off a smile. "It's _different_ with ninjutsu _,_ " he still insisted. "I've practiced Gale Palm enough to know what's too little, but I don't know what's too much."

"And besides," Yahiko said languidly. "Weapons can't hurt me anymore. I'm well on the path to becoming a god, remember?"

Naga lowered his arm slightly, just enough to peek at Yahiko. "I don't want to use kunai or ninjustu against my friends. I never want to use _anything_ I learned to fight you."

Yahiko looked back at him. He sat up with a sigh, shaking his head. "You won't get any better with Gale Palm if you don't use it against other people," he said. " _But,_ how can I keep trying to convince you when you put it like that?"

Naga smiled.

I leaned over Naga and poked Yahiko's arm. "Get the weapons," I ordered.

Yahiko eyed the lake. A fish bigger almost as big as Namekuji floated by, swimming in lazy circles beneath us. "You know," he began, looking up at me. "You _could_ get them yourself."

I poked him harder. "We don't have any extra."

Yahiko shook his head. "Why can't Nagato do it?"

" _You_ hurt Naga," I said simply, gesturing to the red-purple bruise forming on his arm. " _So,_ if you don't, I'll hurt you," I added in the same sickly-sweet tone Konan liked to use when I wasn't listening to her.

Naga was still peeking through his hand, but his smile was bigger than before.

"He hurts _me_ all the time," Yahiko sputtered in protest. "Using weapons and ninjutsu doesn't make a punch hurt more."

"Yes," I said sagely. "It does."

"But—"

I decided I'd talked enough and lunged at him. Naga yelped as I threw myself over him, throwing his arms up to stop me or protect himself or both. Yahiko's eyes filled with alarm. He dropped like a stone. I landed on my hands and knees where he'd been, peering intently down at the water.

I saw a flash of orange hair. Yahiko gave me a salute before he spun and swam towards the bottom.

"You didn't have to do that," Naga said, still a bit cautious. "It doesn't hurt. Promise."

I sat up and poked his chest. "It hurts in here," I told him.

"No, it doesn't," he replied, laughter in his voice.

I pressed down harder. "Deep in here."

"It does not."

"In your heart," I insisted.

"Oka—" The laugh bubbled out of him before he could finish, and I couldn't help the smile as he covered his mouth to try and stifle his giggling.

"Strange Girl," Mamoru called, waving me over when I looked.

Leaving Naga to regain control of himself, I went back to Mamoru, sticking my tongue out. "That's _not_ my name," I said.

"It's a nickname," he said airily.

"You're not allowed to give me nicknames," I muttered.

Mamoru raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking for an explanation.

Right before he left, Jiraya had given me a nickname. He'd called me a Princess.

When I thought of Mamoru giving me a nickname, I saw Jiraya's back as he walked away, the absence when we went back to the hideout before we made it _ours_ instead of _theirs._ I remembered the way Naga cried before Yahiko cheered him up. It made me feel something that was almost—but not—anger.

I let out a breath. "You didn't help when I asked you what to pain, so you're not allowed," I said, though I couldn't fake happiness like Konan did.

Mamoru shook his head. _"That's_ what this is about?" he asked. He turned away, leaving me to stare at his back as he walked away, gesturing for me to follow. "If I suggest something, will you let that go?"

I was back there again. Watching someone else leave, too weak and unimportant to convince them to stay. My feet were stuck to the water. My chest felt tight. I knew that this was different, that Mamoru wasn't Jiraya, but it didn't stop how I felt.

 _Don't leave,_ I thought. _Not again. Notagainnotagainnotagain._

I took a half-step back and, almost without thinking, glanced back. Yahiko was standing on the surface, his shirt folded and full of retrieved weapons. As I watched, he dumped them in Naga's lap and disappeared back underwater.

Konan sat with Namekuji on the far side of the lake, square pieces of paper spread out in front of her. She was trying to make them resistant to Namekuji's corrosive slime the same way she made my flower crown resistant to the rain. I touched the tips of my fingers to the crown on my head.

The tight feeling went away. This time, I knew who my family was. Back then I gave both Jiraya and Tsunade a piece of my heart, and I never realized it until they were returned in worse shape—Tsunade's piece ground into dust beneath her heel, Jiraya's cracked.

I loved Tsunade, because she made one of the people I loved most happy. I believed in Jiraya, as much as I believe in Yahiko.

I smiled. But now I knew better. I didn't have to let Mamoru in like I did with Jiraya and Tsunade. I didn't need to, because I had Yahiko, Konan and Naga. As long as I had them, I would be okay, no matter who became our sensei or who left us.

Mamoru had half-turned back, staring at me, but he didn't say anything at all when I finally skipped over to him.

"It's too late," I chirped. "I already painted over it."

Mamoru gave me a long look, but decided against whatever he was going to say, shifting his gaze away. "Show me the Tiger seal," he instructed.

I did, holding my hands up for him to see.

"Hare," Mamoru said. He waited until I showed me before changing it to, "Boar." Then, "Dog."

"I want you to repeat that sequence in that order until you can do it as fast as me," he said. I followed his hand, watching him flip through half versions of the four seals he showed me. It took him three seconds.

"What's this for?" I asked as I went through each seal. It took me twice as long.

"Those are the signs you need to perform Earth Style: Mud Wall," he answered casually.

I faltered and my hands slipped out of the Boar seal. _Earth Style._ I stared up at him. "You're teaching me an earth jutsu?"

"Someone has to," Mamoru said. "You wouldn't make a bad taijutsu-specialist. But, right now, that's _all_ you have. You suck at recognizing genjutsu, and you don't know anything beyond Academy-level ninjutsu."

I tilted my head. "Academy?"

Mamoru looked at me. He closed his eyes. "There used to be a place here where kids like you went to learn the basics from people like me," he explained. "It didn't have anything on the Academies in the bigger nations, but it was better than..." he trailed off. "This."

By his tone, I knew what happened to it. What always happened to good places in Ame? War.

I lapsed into silence, concentrating on making my hands move faster. The faster I learned the jutsu, the stronger I would be when we were finally read to take on War.

.

.

.

When Mamoru told me I could stop, my fingers ached.

"Watch closely," Mamoru instructed. He took a step back, went through the four hand-signs, and slammed his hand on the grass. The ground directly in front of his hand cracked and bent outwards, shooting up to form a wall in front of him.

It was as tall as he was and twice and wide. Once it stopped moving and Mamoru straightened, I brushed my fingers against the surface. It was cold to the touch and smooth, without any ridges or bumps. I pushed against it.

It was solid. I couldn't move it even a little.

Mamoru stepped around the wall, tapping the edge with his knuckles. "You know the hand-signs and you know how to channel chakra to your hands. Do that, but keep the chakra focused there while you do the signs. Then, holding your hand like this," he held his hand up, palm facing me, fingers stretched out. "Put your hand on the ground and push that chakra into where you want the wall to be in the ground. The last step is to pull that chakra-enhanced earth into a wall shape."

Mamoru dropped his hand. "It's the simplest earth jutsu I know," he said. "Anyone that can use earth-chakra can do it. The real power of this comes from the user. The more chakra you use, the taller and wider you can make the wall. But you can only do that once you understand how it works. If you try to use more chakra than you need right off the bat, the jutsu won't work."

I nodded. It was the same as learning how to water-walk. Balance my chakra. Don't use too much, but don't use too little.

"Know what you want you want the wall to look like before you push your chakra into the ground," Mamoru instructed. "If you don't, the chakra-infused earth won't take on a definitive form. It'll just be a pile of rocks, or," he glanced up at the rain, "A pile of mud."

I closed my eyes and focused my chakra. It felt like a big body of water, so deep I could slip and fall in it and never be found. It always made me think about the dream I had of the drowning girl. There were earthy undertones that reminded me of smells of thing's I'd never seen before in Amegakure.

Pinecones. Dry soil. Yellow-orange leaves.

I asked Yahiko about pinecones once, but he said they were only in drier places, like Fire Country.

I pushed the thought aside, brow furrowing as I concentrated on guiding my chakra to my hands. It went easily, but in big gushes that were always too much. Using my chakra was hardest for small stuff like this. Stuff that needed balance over power.

Once I'd wrangled my chakra into doing what I wanted, I flipped through the signs, forming the image of a big, sturdy wall like Mamoru's, and slammed my hands on the ground. I pushed my chakra into it, willing the earth to move, to twist into a wall to protect me.

Mud bubbled up in a neat pile.

"Don't be disappointed," Mamoru said when he saw my frown. "No one does a jutsu perfectly on the first try. It'll take a lot of practice before you grasp even the basics. At your level, I'll say you can do it in about two weeks, but only if you work hard."

"No," I said firmly, twisting my fingers together again. "I'll do it by the end of today."

"You'll...?" Mamoru repeated in disbelief.

"You don't have to believe me," I shot him a grin over my shoulder. "I'll just prove you wrong."

Mamoru slowly shook his head. "You won't."

I spun and gave him my fiercest look. "I will," I said. Because it's what Yahiko would do. Because I _knew_ I could, I believed it with ever fiber of my being.

Mamoru stared at me. "Fine," he said with a shrug. "You'll learn I'm right the hard way."

I shook my head. "I won't, because you're wrong," I said.

"Why are you so adamant about this?" he asked, exasperated.

I grinned, all teeth. "Because Yahiko taught me to be stubborn."

.

.

.

Four hours later, I sat on my knees behind the earth wall I created, panting hard. It was only half as tall as the one Mamoru created, but my height. It was wider than I meant it to be, the rain was already whittling away at the edges and my fingers were numb, but I did it.

I propped a hand against the wall and looked up at Mamoru.

He stared at the wall, then looked blankly down at me. Mamoru simply turned and walked away.

I smiled brightly at his back. Naga frowned at me in worry, and it only deepened when he felt my forehead. "You're burning up," he murmured.

It had been so long since I had a fever. I slumped against Naga's shoulder.

Yahiko crouched at the edge of the wall, following Mamoru's retreat. "Yep. You broke him," he confirmed.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard," Naga said.

"Had to," I mumbled, nuzzling into his warmth. I was shivering, though I didn't feel cold.

Naga turned his head to stare at Yahiko.

Yahiko blinked. "What?"

Naga stared harder. "You're a bad influence on her."

Yahiko leaned back on his heels, looking sheepish. "Ah, come on. You sound like Konan."

"You know she only went this far because you always do."

"Not always," Yahiko protested. "I learned my lesson! I'm still recovering from the last time I overdid it," he held up his right hand and pinched his skin on the back to show Naga the small white line from the chakra burn Tsunade never healed. "It looks like this because you never healed it."

I smiled faintly.

"I didn't know how to heal back then!" Naga said back at him. "And you can barely see it."

"Dismissing my pain just like Konan does, huh?"

"This is about Oka," Naga told him firmly.

"I see how it is."

"Yahiko."

"One time!" Yahiko said, throwing his hands up. " _One time—_ "

"Three weeks ago you slept for a whole day because you wanted to impress Mamoru-sensei," Naga deadpanned.

"Well," Yahiko faltered. "That was _different._ "

"How?"

"It just was," Yahiko said dismissively.

Naga shifted to look behind him, and I saw Mamoru's legs as he stopped beside my brother.

"Back so soon, Mamoru-sensei?" Yahiko asked teasingly.

Mamoru sighed deeply, wearily. "The other one asked me to teach her genjutsu."

"And it went badly," Yahiko guessed.

"I said I would think about it," Mamoru said. "I'm done teaching for today. I've had enough surprises. I don't know what I would do if she picks up my strongest genjutsu in an hour."

No one spoke. Then Yahiko's muffled laugh broke the quiet.

Naga fought a losing battle against his smile. He shifted me around to his back and I looped my arms around his neck.

"Goodnight, Naga," I murmured as my eyes closed.

Naga paused. And then, quietly, "Night, Oka."


	13. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 4

"Slowly as all the birds were to fly, she was up there among in the sky,

For the birds were all covered in white, she had turned just as dark as the night,

She's consumed by the darkness they bore, she shall never wake up anymore,

For she used all the strength she would hold, now her body is finally cold,"

Soleil, Lizz Robinett

* * *

I flipped my plank to the red side, glancing at the others around it. Naga's was to the left of mine, Konan's on the right, and Yahiko's next to hers. They were all turned to the red side. Mamoru's plank, beside Naga's, was the only one on white side.

I'd drawn my best rendition of what genjutsu might've looked like to a sensor, all abstract, swirly lines and wiggly shapes. When I showed Konan, she told me that Mamoru was too good at genjutsu to be sensed (when he wasn't half-dead), then she rubbed a finger in the drying remains of my paint and left a thumb-shaped mark on my nose.

I still had to get her back for that. Humming, I moved around to the side of the hideout, peeking in through the window. I huffed when I saw Mamoru sitting at the table, a cracked black cup in front of him. Steam wafted from it. Mamoru said it was Nettle tea, made from leaves he found, dried, then boiled in water.

I shook my head. Mamoru was always forgetting to change his plank to the right side.

Yahiko laid on his back on the floor between the kitchen and the living room, Jiraya's book held above him. The cover glimmered silver, made of at least a dozen fish scales that had been carefully layered on top of each other and stitched together. Jiraya never finished it, but Yahiko had read it so much that the corners of the pages were yellowed.

Naga sat against the wall, beneath the painting of the sun. My scarf was being mended in his lap, dark red thread pooled around him and Namekuji. It wasn't the same bright red that he used to make it originally—he ran out of it a long time ago—but I didn't mind. Naga did though, because he always fixed the holes in a way that hid the dark red.

Konan sat across from Mamoru at the table, mouth moving, and I could almost hear her falsely sweet voice, asking, _"Please teach me genjutsu, Mamoru-sensei."_ It would sound like she was asking when she was really demanding it.

"How long are you going to spy on them?" Namekuji asked.

I felt the small weight on my head shift, and I pressed my face against the glass before the piece of him could crawl down my face. "Did Konan ever make that resistant paper she wanted?"

He decided to crawl down the back of my head, and I squirmed when I felt his slimy body on my neck before he settled on my shoulder. "I can ignore you too," he reminded me.

If I checked, I knew the back of my flower crown would be slimy and crumpled. I moved away from the window. "I wasn't spying," I corrected him. "I was checking to see if Mamoru-sensei was there."

"Why?" he asked, then added, "And no, she didn't."

I gestured to the planks.

His tiny tentacles didn't turn to look. "If there _was_ someone pretending to be one of you, you would have to come all the way outside to check. Why put them out here?"

I flipped Mamoru's plank to the red side. " _Because,"_ I stressed. "If we all leave and come back and all the planks are white but someone's here, that means they're an imposter. It doesn't work if they're all inside, because we won't know until _after_ we go in."

"How do you know the one-armed man isn't a fake?"

I paused with a hand against the door. "Because Yahiko and Konan and Naga are here too."

"They could be all fakes," Namekuji said helpfully.

I looked at him. "You're in there too."

Namekuji neither confirmed nor denied this. "I still think it's all a dumb idea."

I slid the door open and stepped inside, quickly pulling it closed so too much rain didn't get in.

"I miss your scarf," he told me as I pulled off a shoe. "It was warm. Why are your shoulders so cold?"

"I'm _wet,_ " I emphasized, tugging off the other shoe. Though I hadn't felt cold from the rain since I was really little. I was used to it, like the feeling of grass between my toes and mud beneath my feet.

Namekuji made an exasperated sound at me. "You're really, _really_ bad at noticing genjutsu."

I went still, looking up. Yahiko, Konan, Naga, and Mamoru were all where they were before—except. I stared at Yahiko and waited, but he didn't ask me for the password. Naga didn't look me over for cuts or bruises, though I'd only been fishing.

No one looked in my direction.

"Awful," Namekuji repeated.

"Kai!" I shouted, making the dispelling seal.

In a blink, the room changed, but not by much. Yahiko was sitting up, Jiraya's book gone, asking me what the password was. Naga knelt in front of me, hands on my shoulders. Konan had pieces of paper spread out over the table.

_Except._

Namekuji wasn't on Naga's back, half over his shoulder, or in the corner where the thread was. He wasn't on any of the clothing piles around the room either. But he wasn't de-summoned, because the small piece of him was still on my shoulder.

Was it on purpose that he chose right then to crawl back up and make himself comfortable in my hair, reminding me that his presence was solid, _real_?

"Your hair is warmer," Namekuji said in explanation, before I could ask.

"Kai," I said a second time. The room changed again. Yahiko, standing. Naga, back against the wall, the scarf in his lap and Namekuji leaning against his leg. Konan, leaning over the table, hands pressed against the wood, glaring at Mamoru, whose eyes were closed.

I looked over them for differences, and then, when I didn't find any, I searched the room. How would I know what was real and what was genjutsu?

Naga frowned and untangled himself, but I took a quick step back before he could reach me. Was he real, or another layer of Mamoru's genjutsu?

"Namekuji?" I asked, staring at Naga with wide eyes.

"You're breathing too hard," Namekuji said back.

I blinked.

"And your chakra is agitated," he added. "Un-agitate it. It's bothering me."

I looked up, though I couldn't see him. "You're supposed to tell me whether this is real or not," I complained, but the uncertainty faded.

"Your hair smells like weeds," he responded.

"Mean." Carefully, I took a piece of my hair and gave it a cautious sniff. It smelled like the dew that covered the walls of the hideout, where the rain didn't reach because of the roof but water still gathered. I didn't think it was a bad smell.

Naga turned to Mamoru, brows furrowed. "I know it's important," he said quietly, but in the silence of the room, it was loud. "But I don't want Oka to be part of this anymore. She was so scared, and I _hate it_ when she looks like that. She should wait until she's older."

I wanted to protest, to tell Naga that I was big enough already, but I only thought of how much worse it all would've been if I didn't have Namekuji.

Konan sat back, her full attention on Naga. Yahiko put Jiraya's book down on the counter.

Mamoru took a long sip from his tea before answered. "And if it wasn't me?" he asked.

Naga looked taken aback. "If...?"

"Out of the four of you, Oka is the worst at identifying genjutsu. You and Konan have a natural sensory defense against it. You can find the chakra of the user, or, if you can't do that, you can learn to sense chakra changes in the environment. Yahiko has intuition and an annoying eye for detail," Mamoru continued, voice cool. "Oka is neither a sensor, nor Yahiko. What do you think would have happened if she didn't have Namekuji, I wasn't going easy on her, or I was the enemy?"

Naga looked at me. He deflated. "You could still wait," he protested weakly.

Mamoru glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Then you'll have to leave her behind," he said plainly. "She can't help you if she's holding you back."

Naga winced.

My chest burned, nerves lighting up with the sudden and unbearable thought of being left behind. I shook my head hard, denying the possibility, but Yahiko spoke first.

"He's right," he said. His hands were laced behind his head. "I don't like it either," he admitted. "But you have to let her do this. There's no future in my head that doesn't involve _all_ of us stopping the war together."

Naga slid down against the wall and pulled his legs up. "I just don't like seeing her hurt," he murmured. "I want her to be strong, but I wish it was easier."

Mamoru shook his head. "You knew none of this would be easy."

Naga wrapped his arms around his legs. "Not for me. I always knew it would be hard for me," he said. "For Oka."

I didn't understand all of what was said, but I knelt beside Naga and leaned against him. "I love you too, Naga," I told him quietly.

Naga lifted his gaze. His eyes were melancholy.

"I know you worry because you love me," I explained. "But I wish it didn't make you so sad."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "I'm not sad," he said suddenly, raising his head a bit more, making himself sound confident.

I didn't immediately answer. I closed my eyes and squeezed myself against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting it lull me into a state of half-sleep. "Pretending is bad, Naga," I whispered.

He inhaled. His heart skipped a beat, but he didn't say anything at all.

"Got the fish, Oka?" Yahiko asked.

He sounded close, but I didn't hear him move at all. I lifted my head. He was sitting on Naga's other side like he'd always been there, legs crossed.

And then I remembered the small fish I'd piled into a weapons pouch and was currently being squished against Naga's side. Reluctantly, I shifted back and unstrapped the pouch, peering in at the contorted fish, pieces of blood and bone sticking into the fabric.

I handed it over to Yahiko with a smile.

His expression went flat when he opened it. "We have to eat these," he reminded me.

I eyed the red stain on the bottom. "I could get more," I offered. I liked going out to fish. I could swim as deep into the lake as I wanted without anyone worrying for me and look for the small holes in the rocks where the fish laid their eggs and left them. "Later though," I said, with a quick glance at Naga.

Yahiko followed my gaze, eyes blank.

"What?" Naga asked after a few seconds, voice muffled.

"The favoritism is obvious," Yahiko deadpanned. "If I'm sad it's all, 'oh get over it, Yahiko!'—"

"Hey!" Konan called from the table.

"—But when it's you," Yahiko continued, ignoring her. "It's, 'hey, let's shower poor Nagato with attention'."

"Naga deserves it," I said firmly.

Naga peeked up from his arms to watch.

"Agreed," Konan said. "He actually listens to me, unlike you."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when Yahiko suddenly stiffened. His eyes glazed over, pupils drifting to a point above my head. Konan paused, then glanced at Mamoru, who was making the rat sign.

I frowned, wanting to help him somehow. I pulled Namekuji off my head. "Help Yahiko," I said, cupping him in my palms. If he helped me, he could help Yahiko too.

"I should've moved," Namekuji murmured, and I realized he'd fallen asleep on my head.

I frowned more deeply.

"No," he answered, more awake.

"You would, if it was Naga," I pouted.

"Yeah, well, it's not," Namekuji said. "Isn't he supposed to be learning? What's the point if I break it for him? _He_ can't summon me to help him if it happens again. Nagato can."

"But—"

Naga plucked Namekuji out of my hands and put him on the ground closer to his main body. "He already broke out of, Oka," he said lightly when I looked at him.

I blinked in surprise and glanced around him. Yahiko was scratching the back of his head, eyes closed.

"Eight seconds," Mamoru deadpanned, but seemed more resigned than surprised.

"You didn't use the dispelling seal," I said.

Yahiko didn't answer right away. He was still scratching his head. "The dispelling seal helps focus your chakra, but if you can focus it without it, you don't need it," he eventually explained. He sounded off, somehow.

"Yahiko?" Konan asked quietly. Concern shone bright in her eyes.

Mamoru sighed deeply. "Should I even ask how you knew?"

Yahiko looked up at the roof. "Because of who I saw," he said after a little while. "I only have one family, and they're all right here."

I got up and stood in front of Mamoru, doing my best to look taller than him as I crossed my arms. "What did you do to Yahiko?" I asked, peering down my nose at him.

Mamoru gave me a brief once-over. He took a long sip of his tea.

Yahiko barked out a short laugh. "So, you _do_ worry about me," he teased.

I narrowed my eyes. "No laughing," I said without turning around. "I'm being serious right now."

Mamoru continued to drink, gaze fixed on the wall opposite of me.

Yahiko outright laughed at that.

"Tell him to stop laughing," I told Konan.

"Hmm," Konan glanced back. "I don't know. Him laughing is a _good thing_ , Oka."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But I'm trying to help him. I can't be serious if he's laughing."

"Why not?" Konan asked. "You can just ignore him like I always do."

"Because Mamoru-sensei isn't taking me seriously," I frowned.

Konan propped a chin on her hand, humming again as she gazed at Mamoru, who studiously avoided her eyes. "What'll you do to him if he _does_ answer?" she asked.

"Depends on what he says," I said carefully.

Mamoru lowered the cup. "I'm tempted to answer with genjutsu," he admitted.

"I think you should give it up," Konan said, lowering her voice. "He might really do it."

I ignored her. "Don't make Yahiko sad again," I warned Mamoru. "I bite."

Konan made a spluttering noise. "We don't bite people, Oka!"

"I do," I said simply. I stared at him for another moment, then turned on my heel and went back to Yahiko and Naga.

Yahiko patted the seat beside him, grinning, but I didn't sit.

" _No one_ is allowed to make you sad," I told him.

Yahiko's grin widened. "Where was this compassion when Konan insulted my cooking?"

"Not _play_ sad, but _real_ sad," I clarified.

Yahiko, while he seemed better, still didn't seem _right._ I crouched down to stare at him. "Tell me to bite him and I will," I told him.

Yahiko laughed again. "Don't scare our sensei away, Oka. We still need him."

"I won't hurt him. Much," I sniffed.

His laugh petered out. He shot me a tiny smile. "You're the best sister a guy could ask for, Oka, really. But don't worry. I mean it. It just surprised me," he said. "It'll take a lot more than _that_ to take me down."

I glanced back at Mamoru, who was in the middle of ignoring Konan's attempts to get him to look at her. I still didn't feel convinced not to bite him.

"When I become a god," Yahiko began. "I'll tell you all about what I saw."

"I think it's better if you don't," Naga murmured, but not unkindly. "Oka and I don't need to know who you were _before._ It doesn't matter anymore, just like who I, Konan or Mamoru-sensei was doesn't. I know who you are _now,_ and I know who you will be. I wouldn't want to think about someone I'm not anymore, so you shouldn't either."

Yahiko stared at him. Naga stared back. "Don't act surprised. _You_ make speeches all the time."

Yahiko's mouth quirked up at the corners. He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "I just didn't expect it, is all," he said airily.

Naga leaned back into his arm. "I'll warn you in advance next time."

Yahiko smiled.

.

.

.

As Mamoru lifted the empty cup to his mouth and pretended to drink, he wondered what he'd done to pique Konan's interest in genjutsu. He'd run out of tea shortly after putting Yahiko in a genjutsu, but he liked using it as an excuse to not answer questions.

The other three were asleep. Oka had been the first to go, curling over Yahiko's legs and trapping the boy in place. With no other choice, Yahiko had slowly nodded off, head tilted back and his mouth wide open. A pouch that smelled suspiciously like fish was still clutched in his hand.

Nagato had been the last to give in and fought it the hardest, but succumbed to it all the same. His legs were still pulled up, face down in his arm pillow. Occasionally, he would raise his head in a state of half-sleep, insist he had to stay up to make everyone dinner, then his head would tilt back down.

It had been nearly half an hour since Naga last raised his head and Mamoru suspected that he'd finally passed out fully.

That left one. The girl with blue-purple hair making a valiant attempt to glare holes through his head. Mamoru took another pretend sip.

The cup was old, dirty, and the tea didn't taste quite right, but he suspected it was the best he would get under the circumstances.

"Mamoru-sensei," Konan began in that too-sweet voice of hers the second he lowered the cup. "Why won't you teach me genjutsu?"

Mamoru sighed. "You're not ready," he said simply. And she wasn't. She had only _just_ begun to learn how to sense a target within one of his chunin-level genjutsu. She was still learning to identify the stuff _without_ her sensory abilities, and she needed to have a solid foundation before she advanced. Though he suspected Konan knew all this already, being one of _four_ child geniuses and all.

He thought of Oka, her surface level understanding of how Mud Wall worked, and how she'd mastered it anyway. He took a long, invisible drink, half-wishing the cup had been filled with something stronger.

"Isn't it better to learn by doing, Mamoru-sensei?" Konan asked with a smile.

Mamoru imagined a book with that slogan in it. It would be titled, 'The fastest way to end your career as a shinobi or die, for beginners'.

Oka was an anomaly, is all.

"It's better to have a firm grasp on what you're doing," Mamoru countered.

"You don't know a single _easy_ genjutsu that I could learn, Mamoru-sensei?"

"Nothing about genjutsu is easy," Mamoru answered after a generous pretend sip. "You have to be able to subtly alter the environment, the senses of your target, or both at once. It requires a degree of chakra control that you just don't have right now."

Konan's brow furrowed. "I have great chakra control."

"For someone your age," he agreed. "But not for genjutsu. You need to be able to send out so little chakra that it can't be detected, while at the same time being able to alter it at a moment's notice if your target becomes aware of it, is also a genjutsu user, or is resistant to it. If you can't, genjutsu will be all but useless to you in a fight."

"Then teach me, Mamoru-sensei," she chirped. "I know I can't rely on being a sensor all the time, but it's because of it that Nagato and I were able to skip training against genin-level techniques, right? So, I kind of already understand the chakra theory behind it. Enough that I _know_ I can do this."

Mamoru paused, but really should've expected that kind of answer. He still thought it was better for her to first learn to escape a genjutsu if her sensory ability was dampened or would alert another sensor if used but, he begrudgingly admitted, not completely necessary. At least not if he _did_ teach her the most basic, Academy-level genjutsu in his arsenal.

"It'll be harder than anything you've done so far," Mamoru warned her.

"It always is," Konan responded happily.

Mamoru sighed more deeply. "I'll teach you," he finally relented.

Konan's eyes lit up and she cast a quick look at the others. Mamoru suspected that if they were alone, she would've shouted in joy. As it was, he could read the excitement in her body language.

"But, for every lesson, you have to reveal one of your secrets," Mamoru added, watching her pause, brow furrowing.

"My secrets?" she asked.

Mamoru quietly sipped. "Tell me how you made Oka's crown waterproof," he answered.

"Oh!" Konan said. She glanced at Oka. "I coated the outside in a layer of my chakra," she explained simply. "We use chakra as a barrier between the water and our feet when we water-walk, so I did the same to Oka's crown against the rain. It took a long time to get it right, but I'm glad it made Oka happy."

_Oh, was that all?_

Mamoru shook his head. _These kids._ "Why didn't it work with Namekuji's slime?"

The slug in question had disappeared into the hallway shortly after Nagato fell back asleep, informing them both that he was going to hunt for the beetles that lived in the walls and beneath the floorboards, despite Mamoru neither asking nor wanting to know that information.

"It was his acid, not his slime," Konan corrected, then gave him a smile. "But you said _one_ question for _one_ lesson, right?"

Fair enough. Mamoru went silent, considering how Konan could improve her control. "Channel chakra to the bottom of your feet like you do when wall-walking," he finally said. "Make it a layer so thin that your foot won't stick to the wall, but it flows steadily beneath your foot."

Konan sat back. After a moment she pressed a foot against the floor, frowning when it stuck once she tried to move it.

"Welcome to Lesson One in advanced chakra control," Mamoru drawled. "When Nagato wakes up, you can practice with him. If he can sense the chakra around your foot even a little, you've failed."

Years of exposure to genjutsu had given Mamoru something of a sixth sense when detecting miniscule changes to the environment or his chakra. But he wasn't a sensor. Never had been and never would be.

He couldn't _really_ tell whether she was doing as instructed, but he knew she wouldn't skip out on training. Not only would it be painfully obvious if she moved onto the next step, but Konan didn't seem like the type to do things in half-measures.

Her unnatural skill with paper attested to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Soleil. It'll most definitely appear again.  
> If you haven't already, check out the companion story to this one called Tilt.


	14. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 5

"I'm out of my head,

of my heart in my mind.

'Cause you can run but you can't hide,

I'm gonna make you mine."

The Wolf, SIAMÉS

* * *

"Find a deep puddle and hide in it," Yahiko instructed, eyes on me. "Mamoru-sensei won't go in to fish you out, but he could set up a genjutsu trap to lure you out. If you think you hear Nagato, Konan, or me, check if it's a genjutsu first."

I nodded.

"If he's on your tail, make a bird noise as a signal. That way we'll know to come rescue you."

I smiled. "You should make one too. So _I'll_ know to come and rescue _you_."

Yahiko made a sound between a laugh and a snort. "Getting arrogant, are we?"

"She gets it from you," Naga said.

Yahiko turned towards Naga, shaking his head. "That hurts," he said. He paused, ensuring Naga saw the hurt in his eyes before he spoke again, "You should hide as far away as you can while still being able to sense us. A lot of the buildings around here have rooms blocked off by rubble that you can fit through, but Mamoru-sensei wont."

The four of us were crouched in a circle beneath a flat piece of steel covered in thick, mossy vines. A tree had grown within and around the skeleton of the building it used to be, and bits of warped metal stuck out of the bark.

"No one put you in charge," Konan informed Yahiko, across from him.

He didn't look at her. "If he catches you and you can't summon Namekuji, make a duck sound."

Naga blinked, then said, "I don't know what a duck sounds like."

I sat back and crossed my legs. "What's a duck?"

Yahiko looked between us, contemplative. "It's like a bird but bigger. Merchants used to skin them and sell their meat and feathers in the market," he paused to rub his chin. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever heard one either—"

"Don't ignore me," Konan said sweetly.

"I don't talk to spies," Yahiko responded airily.

"Spy?" Konan spluttered. "Why do you think I'm a spy?"

"Because you're Mamoru-sensei's favorite," he explained like it was obvious. "You go off with him on secret genjutsu training missions all the time."

"It's not a secret if you know exactly what we're doing," Konan deadpanned. "He offered to train you too, you know. You said no."

"I did," Yahiko agreed thoughtfully. "I _could_ learn genjutsu, but I want to learn something that I can combine with my ninjutsu, like kenjutsu. I want a sword that I can coat in wind chakra."

Konan stared at him for several seconds. "You don't have wind chakra," she finally told him.

"Yeah," Yahiko said. "It's so _sad._ "

I hummed. "Can't you put your water chakra over a sword?" I asked.

"I can," Yahiko tapped his chin. "But I don't know how that would help me in a fight..."

Nagato coughed loudly.

Yahiko blinked, gaze shifting back to Konan. "You were with Mamoru-sensei when he suddenly decided we needed stealth training. It's suspicious."

"It was coincidence," Konan protested. "I'm _not_ a spy!"

Yahiko's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly what a spy would say."

"How am I supposed to prove I'm not a spy if I can't _say_ I'm not a spy?" Konan asked.

"She's a spy," I whispered, inching closer to Yahiko.

"I'm _not_ ," Konan insisted.

Yahiko turned to Nagato. "What do you think?"

Naga gave her an apologetic smile. "It _is_ a little suspicious," he tentatively admitted.

Konan frowned deeply. "I can't believe you would side with _him_ over me—" Faster than I could blink, Konan shoved her hands together, locked eyes with Yahiko, and he abruptly keeled over with a loud _ack!_

Naga and I scattered in opposite directions.

Konan nonchalantly stood, dusting herself off. "Thanks to Yahiko, I know exactly where you'll be," she sang. "And because he wasted your time talking about birds and swords, Mamoru-sensei should be here any second."

Yahiko was still on the ground in front of her, stiff and frozen like a statue. A second later, he jerked up with a gasp and dived between the roots of the tree.

As I ran, I heard Konan's laugh. "You should've pretended to be under the paralysis longer. I would've gone after Oka," she said. "You can't hide from _me_."

I ducked behind a small tree, pressing my back against the wood. Its branches scraped the ground, spine curled in half by the slabs of concrete and stone piled on top of it. Mamoru-sensei told us that the area had been a battleground during the First Shinobi World War, but never got fixed before the Second started.

He said that everyone that lived here moved inland a long time ago.

I waited, listening past the rain for Konan's footsteps. I wouldn't hear Mamoru-sensei coming, but Konan wasn't that good yet. When I heard neither her, nor frantic bird calls from Yahiko, I pushed away from the tree, leapt over a thick root, and searched for a good puddle.

Most puddles were just that. Shallow and small, only big enough to sink my feet into. They were everywhere. A few, though, were deceptive. They looked like regular puddles at a glance but stepping in one would send me straight down into the murky dark.

I knelt beside a puddle. Droplets rippled the surface like any other body of water, but it wasn't. The grass around it wasn't _dry,_ but it wasn't soaked like it would be for a regular puddle. The grass around the lake was dry-ish because the rainwater drained into the lake.

I stuck my hand in the 'puddle', leaning down until my arm was deep within the water. I grinned. I held my breath, inching my body forward until it swallowed me. I twisted around in the water, weightless as I sank. The grey-tinged light that was coming from the sky dimmed, growing smaller and smaller.

It was... different than the dream I had, where the sky was brighter than I'd ever seen in Amegakure and kelp waved around the girl in vibrant greens. I wanted to live, while she wanted to die.

I just barely managed to put my hands up in time to stop my flower crown from floating away, loose strands of my braid pulled up while I floated down.

I was the second-best at holding my breath. Only Yahiko ever beat me.

I felt the wall—mud, packed so tightly that I couldn't move or scrape pieces of it off. There was only enough room for me to stretch my arms halfway out.

I looked up at where I knew the surface was and waited. And waited. And waited.

I was beneath the water for five-and-a-half minutes before I felt the familiar burn in my lungs, the pressure in my throat as my body urged me to take a breath. I kicked up, paddling my arms until the light came back.

I slowed right before I surfaced, cautiously raising my head above the water so only my eyes and nose were visible. I looked around, expecting to see an illusion of Naga telling me to come out, a fake bird call, Konan's smile as she offered me a hand.

But... there was nothing. My only company was the pitter-patter of rain on the grass. I frowned, sinking a little, more suspicious than before. Mamoru-sensei didn't grab me from behind. Naga or Yahiko, newly converted to the side of the enemy, didn't jump in after me.

I waited a little more, but still nothing.

My eyes darted to the right when I heard a shout, and then it abruptly cut off. Naga. Yahiko and Konan were the opposite way. Was that why it was taking so long? Did Mamoru-sensei go after Naga first?

I hesitated. "Kai," I said, bringing my hands together.

I still heard noise. A muffled yell. Footsteps that were quieter than Konan's but not completely silent like Mamoru. Carefully, I climbed out.

"Kai," I said again, just in case.

The sounds didn't disappear.

I moved closer, slowly, using the remains of buildings as cover as I thought of a rescue plan. I peeked over a jagged piece of collapsed stone and saw two figures in black raincoats, blank masks covering their faces. I stilled. Naga's bright red hair peeked out from over the shoulder of the one on the left. He was tied to their back.

"The kid will just be dead weight," the one holding Naga said, voice feminine. "I'll take him back. You keep looking for the target."

"We're supposed to stay in pairs," a male voice reminded her, annoyed. "All this damn rain is making it impossible to track the scent." He raised a hand to his face, as if to rub his nose, but aborted the motion just before he touched his mask, hand dropping back to his side.

My eyes widened and I covered my mouth with both hands to stifle a gasp. Neither of them were Mamoru-sensei. This wasn't a game anymore.

And... they had Naga.

"The target might still put up a fight. It's better if we keep the kid from being damaged before he's shipped back with the others."

An image twisted to life inside my head of a white ship big enough to carry dozens of metal boxes and hundreds of people. It didn't feel real, like I was remembering something I'd read about in a picture book but forgotten about.

It confused me, but it didn't matter. I wouldn't let them take Naga. I stepped around the stone, fingers curling into fists.

The two went abruptly silent.

"Let him go," I said firmly. They were bigger than me, stronger, _but._

 _They would_ not _take my brother._

I would fight with my fists and teeth and nails until I couldn't anymore. They wouldn't take him, because I was going to show them exactly what I meant when I told Mamoru-sensei that I bite.

The two exchanged a glance.

"We don't have time for this," the male said. "Dispose of her, but be quiet about it—"

_Crack._

The male took a half step back, head tilted to the side, cracks spreading across the center of his mask. The rock he'd been hit with fell silently to the ground. I looked up.

Yahiko stood on a pillar, tossing a pointed rock and up and down. More were fisted in his other hand. He was smiling, all teeth, like a predator about to clamp down on the neck of his prey. "You heard my little sister," he said. "Let him go."

The last of the man's mask crumbled away and I saw red, triangle-shaped marks on each cheek. He glared up at Yahiko, baring his teeth right back at him. "Usagi, take care of the little one," he growled. "That one is mine."

He leapt without waiting for an answer, drawing a tantō from his back. Yahiko hopped back and tossed the rock in his hand. The man deflected it and the rock shot off course, hitting the ground with enough force to make a tiny crater.

The man paused on the pillar Yahiko vacated, eyes narrowing at it.

Naga's head lolled against Usagi's back. I breathed out, then pushed off the grass and charged.

Usagi's hands flipped through hand-signs. Rat. Dog. Ox. I didn't stop. Nothing mattered but Naga. Usagi raised a hand and water condensed around her arm, forming a whip.

I got through two of the signs for Mud Wall before Usagi jerked her arm at me and the whip lashed around my ankle. I tried to stop, but Usagi was faster. She yanked her hand back and the whip tugged sharply on my leg. I slipped and slid, falling hard.

My shoulder hurt. The whip tightened, and I had half a second to think, _get up!_ before it jerked me backwards, dragging me through the mud towards Usagi. Grass scratched at my face. I clawed at the ground and dug my feet in, which slowed, but didn't stop her.

When the whip finally went slack, my nails were chipped and bloody. I rolled to a stop at Usagi's feet. Face down, I barely managed to grab a handful of mud and shove it in my mouth before the whip jerked me off the ground.

Usagi dangled me in front of her, upside down and hanging by a painful grip around my ankle. A scrape on my elbow burned, dribbling blood down my arm. Pain twinged through my fingers when I tried to move them.

I looked from her mask to Naga, still unconscious and trapped. It made me angry.

 _I'll save you,_ I thought at him. _I'll protect you like you always protect me._

Growling at Usagi, I clawed at her mask—just barely out of reach—and kicked at the whip. Usagi observed me. "You have spirit," she admitted. "Perhaps I should take you instead of him. You would be a more useful tool to Konoha."

The thought of Jiraya and Tsunade flitted in and out of my head.

I reared back and spit mud into her eye holes.

Usagi yelped and dropped me. I landed harder than before, disoriented by the sizzle of pain down my back. Usagi stumbled back and threw off her mask.

_I still had to save Naga._

I winced and pushed myself up onto my elbows. Yahiko would keep getting back up, no matter how many times he was knocked down. I managed to ascend to one knee when Usagi grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up towards her.

Brown was splattered around her green eyes. She stared at me. "I was wrong," she said quietly, with an undercurrent of something that was almost fury. "You're better off dead." She unsheathed a tantō at her side.

I screamed my rage and frustration at her, biting at her fingers and beating my fists against her arm.

Naga's head tilted up slightly, just enough for me to see the malice in his eyes. He mouthed two words without a sound. _Summoning Jutsu._

Namekuji burst into existence in a puff of smoke between Naga and Usagi. The wire holding Naga snapped and he fell.

"Naga!" I yelled.

Usagi stiffened, her full attention on the summon suddenly on her back.

"I told you I would reverse summon _you_ when Lady Chiyoko made her decision—" Usagi swiped her tantō in a quick motion towards her back and I heard the vaguely gelatinous squelch of the short sword passing through Namekuji's body.

"Huh," Namekuji said after a moment. "You're _not_ Nagato." He slid up Usagi's back and looked over her shoulder, unconcerned and unbothered when she sheathed her tantō and tried to yank him off by hand. His tentacles peered down at me. " _Huh_ ," he said again.

I heard a soft hiss, the sound of armor and skin melting under Namekuji's acid, and Usagi screamed and let go of my shirt.

I landed on my side and couldn't get up again.

Namekuji followed my descent with his tentacles, even as Usagi dropped to her hands and knees and emptied her stomach. "I have a lot of questions," he said casually, with an undertone of something dark. Usagi scrabbled at Namekuji, but he refused to be moved. Patches of red spread up her neck and down her front.

Naga dropped down in front of me, blocking my view. He was clutching his arm where the wire left dark red marks. He ducked his head and shuddered hard as Usagi screamed again. "I don't regret it," he said through his teeth. "I _had to do it._ I heard her, Oka, and I couldn't let her—I _wasn't going to let her_ —" He stopped and shoved his hands over his ears.

My eyes widened as I watched tears mix with the rain on his cheeks.

Naga sniffed. "Why am I crying?" he asked himself, frustrated. He wiped a hand hard against his eyes. "I made the right choice," he insisted, but his tears didn't stop.

Usagi fell forward and went quiet.

I tried to roll over, but my hands wouldn't work right. My fingers were numb, and a painful throb pulsed down my knuckles. I held my hands against my chest, watching Naga cry.

Was it wrong that I didn't feel bad? I knew she was dead. I knew that Naga had summoned Namekuji, knowing in that moment exactly what would happen if he did. But all I felt was relief. Relief that Usagi was gone. Relief that she didn't take Naga. Relief that Namekuji saved us.

Was that the wrong way to feel?

Namekuji appeared behind him. He took one look at Naga, crawled up his back, and curled around the back of his neck without a word. I thought Namekuji would be covered in blood, but he wasn't. There wasn't a single drop on his body.

I heard someone land quietly behind me, followed by a heavier thud, and glanced back. Mamoru-sensei stood directly in front of me, Yahiko tucked under his arm. He was limp but didn't look hurt.

In front of Mamoru was the male from before, on one knee and panting hard. The man clutched his arm, blood dribbling through his fingers. He made himself stand, and I saw the bright red cut across his chest. His tantō was broken in half, but he still pointed it at Mamoru.

"He always sends children to do his dirty work," Mamoru said. He sounded weary and sad.

"Tell me where the target is," the male growled. His eyes flicked to and away from Usagi's remains. His expression didn't change. "His scent is all over you."

Mamoru didn't immediately answer. He looked away. "I can't let you go," he said. "You'll tell Danzo all about me and those four, and that's a brand of hell they're not ready to deal with yet."

The male tightened his grip on his tanto and surged forward. He took three steps, stopped, and the blade fell out of his hand and sank into the mud. His eyes glazed over and he stiffened, arms pressed against his sides like he was being held down.

Mamoru lowered Yahiko to the ground and pulled a kunai out from under his shirt. "Even without a canine partner you've got a damn good nose," he said, moving to stand in front of the man. "But, like most people, little to no defense against genjutsu." Mamoru flipped the kunai and in one quick motion, slashed it across his throat.

He made a gurgling sound and collapsed, blood pouring out of his neck like a river.

Naga turned me towards him (too late, always too late), and gently pulled my hands away from my chest, his own glowing green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think the Rinnegan works like the Mangekyō Sharingan. Itachi Uchiha, despite experiencing war at the age of four and living through the Kyuubi attack, only activated the Mangekyō when Shisui died. canon!Nagato only activated the Rinnegan after watching his parents die (or, the author's excuse for why Oka didn't activate the Rinnegan this chapter).


	15. A Man Named Mamoru - Part 6

"Got a few more fake friends

And it's gettin' hard to know what's real,

And if death is the last appointment

Then we're all just sittin' in the waiting room,

I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom."

-Church, Fall Out Boy

* * *

I sat against a wall of the hideout, legs tucked against my chest.

Across the room, Naga laid on his side, facing the wall. Namekuji was splayed over his head, a living, breathing barrier to the outside world. He was still hurt over Usagi and angry he was hurting.

I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how. He always had the right words when I needed him, but now that he needed me, the words to make him feel better wouldn't come. What were the right words to say about what he did to Usagi? Yahiko would know. He always did.

My nails were chipped, ragged, and dirty, but Naga healed the pain away. He fixed the cuts but not the bruises, saving his chakra to heal Yahiko's broken wrist.

I looked towards the front, where Yahiko and Konan stood together in the doorway. Yahiko wore a splint—made from planks of wood and torn scraps of Mamoru's old pants. Mamoru donated them to Konan's slime-deterrent pile, as wearing them pointed him out as a shinobi.

Naga said he made the splint because Yahiko's bones were still sensitive and he didn't trust him to stop training until it fully healed. Yahiko only didn't protest because he could see how red Naga's eyes were.

I hated how quiet it was. I glared down at Naga's old shirt, covering the floor beside my foot and darkened in the middle by slime. Mamoru-sensei hadn't come inside since Naga was attacked. That was a day ago.

I stood, ignoring the painful tingle around my ankle where the water rope left a circle of purple-black bruises, and strode over to Yahiko and Konan. I saw the worry in Konan's eyes as she peeked out, sprinkled with fear.

Mamoru sat in the rain with his back to us.

Yahiko's eyes made me think of the morning Jiraya left.

I ground my teeth, shoved past them, and went out. Konan let out a surprised squeak, whisper-yelling at me, but I focused only on Mamoru. Even when I knelt beside him, he didn't turn. Mamoru looked at the sky, but his gaze was somewhere far away.

"Are you leaving?" I asked.

Mamoru dragged his eyes down to look at me. Bags lined his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

I stared back at him. I heard someone come out behind me.

"Oka—" Konan began, half-chastising, half-hesitant. Her eyes flicked to Mamoru-sensei. "She didn't mean it like that," she said haltingly. "She only asked because..." she trailed off and frowned.

Yahiko leaned back against the wall just outside, arms crossed. "It was like this with the shinobi who trained us before," he explained. "They avoided us, and then they were gone."

Konan sent him a look that was half-scolding, half-resigned. She looked like she wanted to speak, but bit her lip instead.

"If you're leaving, go already," I said harshly.

When Mamoru-sensei left, _he_ wasn't the one who would have to watch Konan smile and laugh and pretend like she was okay when she wasn't. _He_ wasn't the one who would have to help put her broken heart back together. I would never, ever forgive him for it.

Yahiko waved me down. "Let's see what he has to say first," he said lightly. "Then we decide how we feel."

Mamoru didn't seem to hear any of it. "Tell me what you know about Hanzo the Salamander," he finally said.

Konan blinked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"He's the leader of this crybaby village," Yahiko answered, hands laced behind his neck. "He wants peace like we do, so we're allies. He just doesn't know it yet."

"That's it?" Mamoru asked quietly.

"He has a salamander named Ibuse," Konan said, smile shaky and tentative. "And he's crazy strong."

"And he was your friend," Yahiko added.

Mamoru stiffened, and all three of us looked at him.

Yahiko grinned. "The day we met, Oka told me about Hanzo," he said, eyes solely on Mamoru. "Which meant you told her about him, and you'd only do _that_ if Hanzo was the one hunting you down and you thought he sent Oka to finish the job. What I couldn't figure out was _why_ you would think that, at least, not until yesterday,"

"You didn't want to kill Inu because he was young, but you thought you had to," Yahiko shrugged. "Kids are your weakness, Mamoru-sensei, and Hanzo knew it. And because I _know_ that Hanzo doesn't know how to mess with the head of every single shinobi in the village—"

"You were unconscious," Mamoru stated, almost to himself, in disbelief.

"Mostly," Yahiko agreed. "I don't like being unconscious with enemies around."

Konan scoffed. " _No one_ likes that."

"Yeah, but I _especially_ don't like it."

Konan stared at him. "You can't force yourself to wake up after being knocked out just because you really want to."

"I can," Yahiko said. "And I did." He faced her. "Just because Inu would've knocked _you_ out doesn't mean he did that to _me_."

Konan's eyes narrowed. "I would've stayed awake."

"We'll never know because you ran away," Yahiko said airily.

" _You_ told me to get Mamoru-sensei," she hissed.

"Sounds like an excuse to me."

"You're so full of sh—"

"Language, Konan," Yahiko interrupted, sage-like. "You don't want to teach Oka that word, do you?"

"You don't know what I was going to say."

Yahiko stared blankly at her.

"You're not human," Mamoru told Yahiko.

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"An insult," Konan said with a sweet smile.

"A compliment," I decided.

Yahiko shook his head, refocusing on Mamoru. "My _point_ was that for Hanzo to know that, you had to be friends, Mamoru-sensei," he said. "And you called him a bastard. Hurt or not, no one here would do that with other people listening in."

It was like watching a fire go out. Mamoru's eyes darkened and he turned away. Eventually, he sighed. "There were four of us," he started, almost reluctantly. "Osamu, Tadao, Shuji, and me. We were all friends with Hanzo, and during the war, he made us his inner circle. While he fought on the front lines, we kept the village running. Kept food coming in, directed our forces, found a place for refugees..." Mamoru closed his eyes. "Only Shuji and Osamu are left now."

"What happened?" Konan asked quietly when Mamoru didn't continue.

"Shuji happened," Mamoru said, acid dripping from his tone. "He was a traitor from Konoha. Had been for as long as I knew him. I just didn't know it until he stabbed me in the back. He made me a traitor and Hanzo believed him."

Konan grimaced.

I looked out at the rain. Konoha. Why was it always Konoha?"

"Before I found Yahiko, I found Tadao. He was dead," Mamoru said. He looked sad and tired. "He was trying to track down this place. He didn't make it."

Yahiko stared hard at wall.

Was this the fault of War, too? Was it someone else I had to add to the pile of people that died to War's greed?

"Hanzo must've thought he wouldn't get far with his injury," Mamoru said, staring sightlessly at the grass. "Shuji or Danzo had to think otherwise, or they wouldn't have sent Root to finish the job—"

"Danzo?" Konan asked gently, sitting on Mamoru's other side.

Mamoru slowly blinked. He looked at Konan, surprised, as if he'd forgotten who his audience was. "Danzo Shimura," he began haltingly. Mamoru stared down at his feet. "Konohagakure is led by the Third Hokage. Danzo is his advisor, and someone that should only be trusted only as far as you can throw him." He paused. "No, even less than that. He runs an organization he calls Root. They take kids, strip them of their emotions, then turn them into tools to spy on other nations or assassinate diplomats while leaving no evidence to tie them back to Konoha. Shuji is one of them."

Konan's eyes widened. "The people who tried to kidnap Nagato wouldn't be from Root, would they?"

"War orphans are easy targets for them," Mamoru answered. "No one misses them when they disappear, and no one remembers them to notice when they return as spies."

"Danzo Shimura," I murmured, testing the name on my tongue. If Inu and Usagi were his, he was partly responsible for Yahiko getting hurt, for forcing Naga to kill someone.

_I promised I would save you and I failed._

If I was stronger, I would've killed Usagi so he didn't have to. But I wasn't. Naga had to save himself _and_ me.

I thought if I wanted it, I could make it happen. But my _wanting_ meant nothing to her power. I clenched my fists.

I was still so... _small._

"Could you describe Danzo to us, Mamoru-sensei?" Konan asked.

As Mamoru described an elderly man with bandages covering half his face and one arm in a sling, I stood and went over to Yahiko. He looked distracted, a hand half covering his mouth.

"Yahiko?" I asked, uncertain.

He was muttering under his breath.

Before, I never thought about _why_ Yahiko wanted to be a god. Why it wasn't good enough to be the leader of Amegakure, or taking control of one of the other, bigger nations. It was about power. It was about having so much that no one would, or could, stand in the way of peace.

I stood on my tiptoes to wave a hand in front of his face.

Yahiko blinked down at me. "Sorry, Oka," he said with a sheepish smile. "Mamoru-sensei gave me a lot to think about."

"'Is okay," I said. "Like Danzo?"

Yahiko looked away. "Danzo is a problem for later. I was talking about Root. There are a lot of orphans around here. Some are kinda like us—"

"No," I interrupted him.

Yahiko blinked again. "No?" he repeated.

"No one is like us."

Yahiko laughed a little. "Not like us in that way," he said. "I meant that they had the same idea I did to band together to survive. But a lot of them are still alone. Someone's got to warn them about Root, and that someone is me."

I hummed. "I'm coming with you."

Yahiko shook his head. "Are you asking or telling me?"

"Telling you," I told him with a smile.

He looked me up and down. "You're a little short to be my bodyguard," he teased.

My smile widened into something more Konan-like. "I can show you how sharp my teeth are," I offered.

Yahiko took a purposeful step back, putting space between us. "Biting is rude, you know."

"I'm rude," I told him right back.

Yahiko took another careful step back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yahiko," Mamoru called before I could decide if leaping at him would be worth hurting my leg more. "You should find someone else to obsess over. You won't find an ally in Hanzo."

Yahiko took a moment to think about that. "Yeah I will," he said back easily.

Mamoru turned away from him. "Whatever dream Hanzo might've had for peace died with Tadao," he said.

Yahiko looked at me, then Konan. "There's no other option for us," he said. "I really thought about it, but we _need_ Hanzo to be on our side. _Nothing_ will stop me from achieving my dream, and it starts right here. He has to be on our side because the only other path for us is to _take_ Amegakure from him."

"But that'll only lead to more fighting and bloodshed, more people dying for nothing," Yahiko said, eyes bright and intense. "We take Amegakure by force and Hanzo retaliates with even more force. The village will keep crying, but we'll be the ones causing it this time. If we kill him, we spend the rest of our lives killing the people that followed him, people that want revenge, mercenaries hired to kill us."

He shook his head. "People will only listen to us out of fear. That isn't peace. It's just a different form of war. I don't want to be that kind of god, and I don't want my friends to be those kinds of people. All I've ever wanted was to make Amegakure better, not worse. Hanzo will listen to us because I'll make him see that we aren't his enemy."

Mamoru stared at Yahiko. He shook his head, and I heard a huff of a laugh. He stood and shuffled past us without a word, a hand on the back of his head. Mamoru stopped in the doorway. "You got me again," he said without turning around. "I'll put my faith in you, Yahiko, and leave it to you to convince the stubborn salamander."

I stared at Mamoru's back as he disappeared inside.

_First, Hanzo. Then the rain, the war, and finally, Root._

"How long have you been waiting to break that one out?" Konan teased. She was stretched out on the grass on her stomach, feet in the air.

Yahiko shrugged. "It's just how I feel. Someone without a passion wouldn't get it."

Konan squawked and I thought that maybe, just this once, I could let myself care about Mamoru.

**聖域**

**(Before)**

Mamoru gave his students two (and a half, because he was feeling generous) minutes to make a plan and hide. He'd found a common theme among three of them. They excelled in a single area, while everything else was shaky or unrefined.

For Nagato, it was medical ninjutsu. Mamoru owed his life to a kid a third of his age. Nagato was only genin-level, but possibly the best medic-nin Amegakure had. He ranked third on Mamoru's mental anomaly list (because, make no mistake, they were _all_ anomalies, just at different levels), just below Konan (she either had a paper-related bloodline trait or she _created_ a style of ninjutsu, he wasn't sure which), but above Oka.

But, Nagato was soft. He was someone who had clearly learned morals and ethics before he became an orphan. Which, as much as Mamoru wished otherwise, held him back in a village like this. Mamoru _still_ didn't have a good grasp of Nagato's skill in taijutsu because the kid fought differently depending on who his opponent was. He pulled punches with his sister, refused to draw blood against Yahiko, and _only_ tried the hardest against Konan because he couldn't touch her.

He would have to pit himself against Nagato when he had some free time (which, between training four kids at once, was _never_ ). Nagato knew how to substitute himself, but anything beyond that was self-taught (though that was a problem with all of them). His sensory ability was nothing to scoff at, but he didn't know how to hide his chakra.

Nagato was practically a beacon to anyone with even the barest sensory ability. He relied way too much on said ability to detect genjutsu, or to anticipate an attack. He was about as stealthy as the rain (again, a universal problem), and his wind style was iffy, at best.

Konan, second on his mental list, had honed her weird paper-ninjutsu like a freshly polished kunai. Mamoru still wasn't sure how she did half the things she did with it. She was better at shurikenjutsu than Nagato, but not Oka. Mamoru knew that she could be a better sensor if she had a teacher that specialized in it, like Tadao. As it was, she and Nagato were both fumbling around in the dark, using trial and error to guide them forward.

Oka was around low-genin level. She was second in taijutsu and only passable in genjutsu because she had _him_ for a teacher. Her ninjutsu was a work-in-progress. Beyond that one time with earth style: mud wall that Mamoru preferred not to think about, she was making slow progress with making an earth clone (still fast, but not _four hours_ fast, thankfully).

Of the four of them, she fought the hardest. She wasn't afraid to draw blood like Nagato. Mamoru suspected that Oka had either, been too young to remember their parents when they were orphaned (because unlike the others, she and Nagato looked at least a little related; they had the same eyes), or she'd been too young for their influence to stick. She was a child raised by war.

As for his fourth student...

Yahiko was, well, Yahiko. He was in a category all his own. He was mid-to-low chunin and the most well-rounded. He was the best at taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, second-best at ninjutsu (Konan and her paper would always be first), and first at dispelling genjutsu.

The kid was a prodigy among prodigies. It gave Mamoru a headache.

Having successfully wasted one minute and fifty seconds musing over his students, Mamoru glanced north, the direction the four of them had disappeared to once he signaled them to begin. He didn't hear or see a trace of them.

Either they were better than he thought they were, or Yahiko told them not to leave footprints.

Forty seconds left. Mamoru would know if they broke the rules and started early because Konan would toss a kunai straight up the second they did, signaling him.

The second planning time was over, Mamoru leapt and stuck to the side of an old building. It made an ominous cracking noise when he landed, but, as the building didn't come down, he ignored it and walked to the top floor (the only floor not completely overtaken by nature).

Mamoru scanned east to west, searching for red, orange or blue-purple hair. Living in a village without forests was good for one thing, it made finding people easier. He limited the "hiding area" to a quarter mile out from his position.

If he couldn't find all four of them by midday, he would take them out to eat and let them order anything they wanted (whether there was a place like that still standing in Amegakure was questionable, but he wasn't going to lose). _When_ he won, he got the next day off (no training, no kids pestering him, and maybe, just maybe, he would remember what it was like to be alone for once).

Mamoru stared off north-west. He found someone, but not one of his students. He or she was half-obscured by boulders, but he knew a human leg when he saw one. He also recognized their pants, because he used to own a pair himself.

Now, why would a shinobi be all the way out here?

Mamoru frowned. He was sure that Hanzo knew he was alive. He used a mixture of genjutsu and ninjutsu to disguise himself when he passed through the shinobi-heavy sector of Amegakure (or what was left of it anyway), but Hanzo never retrieved his body or received word that he was found dead.

Any seasoned shinobi would assume that a missing target was one that was still alive.

Was he really getting so complacent that he let himself be followed? Unless the tracker was from Root and one of Konoha's _many_ clans known for tracking. Like the Inuzuka, Aburame, or worse, the Hyuuga.

His phantom limb ached. Mamoru sighed. Deeply.

The only way to know was to ask them himself.

Time for a quick detour.

.

.

.

Mamoru landed on top of a boulder and went completely still.

Below him, hiding half in shadow, was Tadao. He was laying in the middle of a pond of blood. Mamoru turned, following a red path through the grass where Tadao had clearly dragged himself through the mud.

He should've known it was Tadao who tracked him. Tadao, one of only four people who could've picked him out of a crowd by his tells, transformation jutsu or not.

Of course Shuji wouldn't have stopped at him. Mamoru felt outside of his body for a moment, a spectator watching himself look down at the dead body of one of his best friends.

It was a smart play. If Hanzo couldn't trust his hand-picked inner circle, how could he trust anyone else that served under him?

Mamoru slid down until he stood beside Tadao's head. His friend was face down, an arm reaching, grappling at the dirt and grass, desperate to pull his body forward another inch. His skin was pale and bloated. He'd been dead for a while.

There was a hole in his back, visible even through his gray flak-jacket. Mamoru knew it was from Hanzo's sickle. He dropped to his knees.

Mamoru felt exhausted. He'd lived through two World Wars—a helpless child in the first, a killer in the second—but he never felt as tired as he did right then. Seeing Tadao, dead from the same fate he escaped, shouldn't have been worse than standing in the middle of a battlefield—but it was. He was so tired of watching his friends die.

Though there was still something he had to do. One final thing he could do for Tadao. Mamoru didn't know how, but he stood. His fingers moved on their own. Dog. Snake. Horse. Tiger.

_Earth Style: Earth Fissure._

It was the same request he made of Yahiko, back when he was sure he was going to die.

_"Destroy my body for me."_

The ground shook and the earth cracked as he forced it to tear open, moving apart until—Mamoru closed his eyes and didn't look as Tadao fell in the hole. He kept the jutsu going until he was sure all the red-stained grass fell in too. Only then did he close the fissure.

Mamoru dropped his hand and stared at the ground, clumps of dirt where there should've been grass the only proof that anything happened at all.

"Mamoru-sensei!" Konan yelled breathlessly from somewhere behind him.

His students—and this whole exercise—had been completely forgotten.

"Nagato was captured," Konan said quickly, standing at his side. "I sensed two people; one with water-style chakra. Yahiko stayed back to fight but he can't—he can't do it alone. And Oka's out there somewhere—"

Mamoru walked forward. He picked up a rock the size of his head, struggled a bit adjusting it in his grip, and put it on top of Tadao's 'grave' as a pseudo-headstone. He wanted to stay and mourn and wonder.

_If I decided to train them here a day earlier, could I have found him alive?_

But Mamoru had something of a responsibility to these kids. Nagato especially.

Konan looked frustrated and scared. She took a step forward, mouth opening—but she must've seen something in his face because her eyes widened and she didn't speak.

"Which way?" Mamoru finally asked, facing away from her.

"East—"

"Stay here," he instructed. Mamoru didn't know why he said it, other than that he didn't want to leave Tadao alone with only the rain for company.

Konan shook her head. "I can take you to them," she insisted. "I can help you fight."

Mamoru looked at the headstone. His legs felt like they were made of lead. "No." Before she could argue further, he disappeared.

.

.

.

It was easy enough to find Yahiko.

Mamoru stopped, observing the signs of battle around him. Small craters in the grass and indented in trees, slashes from a short sword carved into rocks or walls. He followed the signs and soon enough, he heard them.

"Slippery runt," an Inuzuka growled, standing on the middle floor of a building with no back wall.

Metals beams blocked the Inuzuka from accessing the room in front of him. The Inuzuka wore a black raincoat, matching gloves, and held a tanto in his right hand. There was a crack in the middle, like it had been hit with something in that exact spot over and over again.

Perched on a pillar, Mamoru raised his hand. He projected a small visual and auditory genjutsu at the Inuzuka, making the crack appear smaller than it really was.

The Inuzuka took a quick step back and then launched himself forward, twirling his body until he resembled a miniature tornado. He demolished the beams and a good chunk of the floor.

Mamoru watched Yahiko leap away from the explosion of debris, catching himself hand-first on the wall of a dilapidated archway and sticking with chakra. Even Mamoru saw the way his wrist twisted the wrong way. But other than a quick glance at it, Yahiko didn't react.

He continued to hang, eyes on the Inuzuka. Yahiko held a rock in his other hand, and Mamoru understood what made the craters. Anything was a weapon when coated with enough chakra.

He didn't see Nagato. Mamoru dropped down before the Inuzuka stopped spinning, a kunai clutched in his grip. He wanted to end this quickly.

The Inuzuka's head jerked up. He planted a foot in the mud, pivoted, and threw his tanto up in time to block the kunai, all before Mamoru landed.

Mamoru narrowed his eyes. At most, the kid was sixteen. He tightened his grip on the kunai and wedged it into the crack, holding the genjutsu as splinters raced up the surface. It wasn't a coincidence that both Root and Tadao were here.

Because Tadao was heavily injured, Root didn't send their best to hunt him down. No, they sent shinobi skilled enough to kill him, but wouldn't be missed if they failed or died. The expendable ones. In Mamoru's experience, that almost always meant children.

Nagato, separated from his friends and appearing as a lone war orphan, was a bonus for Root. Mamoru made it easy for them. The best strategy for his students to win his exercise was to split up and get as far away from each other as possible in order to outlast him.

The Inuzuka's nose twitched. His eyes went wide. "You were with him," he said. He looked soaked in a way that could only come from being doused in Yahiko's water wave.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up, Mamoru-sensei," Yahiko drawled, landing behind the Inuzuka. Mamoru knew Yahiko could be a sneaky bastard when he wanted to, but he hit the mud with an audible _thump._

It worked to distract the Inuzuka for half a second, long enough for Mamoru to drive his foot into the Inuzuka's knee. The boy stumbled and barely threw himself out of the way of a kunai slash that would've cut his throat open.

Yahiko threw the rock. The Inuzuka, still off-balance, instinctively raised his tanto to deflect it—and the short sword snapped in half. A shard carved a deep line in his arm as it sailed behind him, and smaller fragments dug into his raincoat.

The Inuzuka grunted, eyes flicking down to the tanto, stunned by the disconnect between what his eyes saw and the pain he felt.

He still managed to dodge backwards when Mamoru came at him, but not completely. Red bloomed through a horizontal tear in his raincoat.

Even in shock, the Inuzuka smelled him coming. He held the broken tanto up to his nose, eyes hard, sniffing the area around the genjutsu. Yahiko flipped through hand-signs behind him.

Mamoru surged forward, acting as a distraction (the Inuzuka only used the broken half to parry him, despite the genjutsu still being firmly in place) until the Inuzuka was hit from behind by a powerful stream of water.

The Inuzuka was tossed backwards. He hit a pillar and it broke, raining rocks and rubble on top of him as the jutsu sputtered out. He didn't get up.

Before Mamoru could finish the fight, Yahiko spoke, "Nagato and Oka—they were that way." He pointed further east and then his eyes rolled up.

Mamoru caught him as his knees buckled.

What was more important? Taking the extra time to finish off the Inuzuka (if he wasn't faking being unconscious), or rescuing his students (because he'd wasted too much time here already)?

Mamoru fixed the kunai to his waistband and tucked Yahiko under his arm. Maybe it was also because he was tired of killing people. Maybe he wanted to give the Inuzuka a chance to live, even if it would damn them all in doing so.

Maybe it was because he felt numb to it all (the urgency, the danger—it felt so _distant_ ).

Mamoru leapt without looking back.

.

.

.

The Inuzuka followed him, and in doing so, chose to die.

As it turned out, neither Oka nor Nagato needed him. Mamoru arrived just in time to see the grisly, half-melted remains of the other Root agent. Nagato was crying, back turned to the body. There was only one scenario in which Mamoru could see Nagato killing someone.

One of the few people he loved was in serious danger.

Oka was in front of him, mud on her chin, blood on her forehead and arms, fingernails half-missing. Despite the pain she must've been in, she looked concerned... and confused.

A child of war, through and through.

Mamoru's tail threw shuriken and he leapt, landing behind Nagato. Namekuji turned to look at him and Mamoru swore in the second before the slug recognized him and promptly lost interest that he felt killing intent.

The Inuzuka landed heavily behind him and Mamoru mentally sighed as he turned around. He stared at the boy, barely able to stand but either overconfident (and a fool) or so brainwashed that he'd continue his mission, knowing he couldn't win.

Mamoru shook his head. _I tried._

He put Yahiko down and made a quick sign for Paralysis Jutsu as he pulled out his kunai. All it took after that was eye contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 聖域 - Sanctuary  
> Half of the inspiration for this chapter came from the song, but the other half came from an animatic of the same name by ToastyGlow.


	16. A Man Named Osamu - Part 1

"So why do I say,

things I don't really mean?

I'm only crying cuz I never dreamed,

It'd take this long."

-Don't Think Twice, Hikaru Utada

* * *

I woke up in the middle of a forest. It smelled like cloves.

For a second, before I opened my eyes, I thought I was somewhere else. Somewhere warm. I could almost feel the metal handle of a frying pan as I sat up, and I stared at my empty hands until the sleepiness went away.

I was surrounded by trees so tall that I had to tilt my head all the way back to see the tops. Mint green leaves filled the sky, clustered so close together that I couldn't see through them. They gave everything around me a pale green glow. It was darker than Amegakure at midday, but not at night. And there was no rain.

I kept expecting to hear it, like the skies would open at any second and it would be a downpour. But I only heard baby slugs slithering through the grass around me and their soft mewling. Most of them couldn't talk yet.

It was the warmest I ever felt. I stretched my arms above my head and got up. The grass was almost as tall as I was, the blades curled into a 'p' shape. A pale-yellow slime the size of my hand climbed on top of a purple mushroom with pink spots twice its size.

When it grew to be as big as Namekuji it would follow the river to a steep waterfall, and then far down to a mist-filled chasm where all the adult slugs lived. I carefully waded through the grass, eyes on the ground, watching for baby slugs.

After a minute of walking, the grass thinned. I stepped off the dirt and onto ground that was a shiny black, covered in wavy grooves. It lined the bank of a wide river made of silver slime. It moved sluggishly to the right. The same black rock made up the bank on the other side. The baby slimes were supposed to stay away from it, because they wouldn't be able to come back up if they fell in it and were swept off the cliff.

I followed the river in the opposite direction, to the left. Soon enough, the river widened into a pond. In the middle sat Naga, shirtless, submerged up to his waist. He was under another, smaller waterfall that poured off the side of a hill. Silver slime dribbled down his hair and across his shoulders.

It had been a long time since I saw his scars like this. They were light pink and faded, but stood out against his pale skin. It wasn't one big burn stretching along his right side but a lot of small ones, scattered and patchy. I was used to the ones on his face, but the scars on his chest made me think of—

Ibuse. Chibi. The shirt with the bite marks that I was too big to wear. I still bunched it up and used it as a pillow sometimes.

The slime pouring on him was supposed to reverse the effects of taking in too much nature energy, though it would sting and break his concentration when he did.

I stayed on the bank but moved closer. Naga's eyebrow twitched. "Oka," he said, trying hard not to smile. "I'm trying to focus."

I stopped. I didn't really understand what he was trying to do, but I knew it was important to him. "Keep working hard," I instructed him, backing off.

I looked up the hill. At the top was Lady Chiyoko and the cave where the slugs were born.I found a handhold in the dirt and climbed up the hill. Neon colored mushrooms poked out of the dirt around me.

I gave Naga one last look at the top before I pulled myself over the side.

The cave was huge. Blue algae hung from the ceiling and fluorescent green mushrooms grew out of the grass around the mouth of the cave. Still forming slugs were contained in sacs on the walls, shaped like rocks, but see-through. Some were cracked open and silver goo dripped onto the floor and joined a stream leading down to the waterfall.

"Little sprout," a high, polite voice greeted me.

Lady Chiyoko was the only slug I'd ever seen with wrinkled skin. She sounded old and was the color of dried oranges. She was the oldest slug in the forest and cared for all the baby slugs until they grew up. "Going to explore the Sacred Cave again?"

Namekuji called her 'grandmother'.

"Maybe," I said with a half-shrug.

Newborn slugs clung to her front and sides. "You don't have to keep coming here with Nagato," she said, shuffling closer. Slugs fell off her body like raindrops. "It must be awfully dull."

I shrugged again and sat, crossing my legs. I picked moss off my feet. My sandals were too small to wear now, so I left them behind. "Could I be a slug sage too?"

Lady Chiyoko stopped and didn't answer right away. "You can't," she finally said, apologetic but firm.

I looked up. "Why not?"

"Training with natural energy is extremely dangerous and taxing on the human body," she said. "It's very rare to find someone compatible with our type of senjutsu. Nagato's inherited vitality and large chakra pool is why he can succeed in this where everyone else has failed."

"I have a lot of chakra too," I protested.

Lady Chiyoko hesitated. "It's best I don't interfere," she murmured. "You're already quite special, little sprout."

I let out a breath. I hated that word. Special. No one ever told me what it really meant. "That's not a reason," I said.

"Your chakra coils are still developing," Lady Chiyoko said quickly. "Trying to take in nature energy now may damage them. It's best to wait until you're older before you attempt it. If you form a contract with us and still wish to do so in the future, you may return to ask again."

I stared at her for a moment, then went back to flicking off moss. "I'm too small right now?" I clarified.

"Yes," Lady Chiyoko said.

Spending all her time around babies made her a bad liar. Even Konan was better at it. My brows furrowed. Why lie? Why would being 'special' make it so I couldn't be a slug sage? Why didn't she want to tell me the real reason?

Knowing that Lady Chiyoko would only lie if I asked again, I let it go and smiled at her. "I'll come back when I'm bigger," I promised firmly.

"I look forward to it," Lady Chiyoko said, with the slightest hesitation.

I hummed. Why tell me I could come back if she would just say no?

"I understand why you might be reluctant to leave Nagato," Lady Chiyoko said, eager to change the subject. "It's become apparent that he prefers to spend his time here, rather than within your shinobi village."

I focused on the mushrooms around the cave. Five days ago, Naga left Namekuji to watch over Yahiko, Konan, and me, and had Lady Chiyoko reverse summon him to Shikkotsu Forest. He said he would be back in a few hours.

It had been hard for him since Usagi.

"Your world is a very difficult place for someone with a gentle heart, isn't it?" Lady Chiyoko asked softly.

Less than a day ago, Namekuji put a reverse summoning seal on the ground, had me stand on it, and had Naga summon me to the forest.

I missed him, and I wanted to be sure he was safe.

Here, there was no war, no Root, and Naga didn't have to kill anyone. He worried about Yahiko and Konan, but they had Mamoru and Namekuji. He had more of a reason to stay with me here.

My fists clenched.

"At least for now, it's more beneficial Nagato stay here until he learns to take in natural energy safely," Lady Chiyoko said. "But, eventually, he will need to realize that humans are not meant to live within this forest, and he can't use this place as a means of escape forever. It will take him longer to do this if even one person he cares deeply for stays here."

I ground my teeth. What if I left and... he didn't come back?

But I wasn't helping either of us by staying here. I couldn't train—the baby slugs were sensitive to chakra and using enough for ninjutsu would hurt them. I was back at the beginning before Mamoru-sensei, only left with taijutsu.

I was holding us both back.

I stood, fists clenched. I was starting to hate feeling helpless. I moved around Lady Chiyoko and knelt at the edge of the hill. If I leaned over, I could just barely see Naga's hair through all the silver.

_You better come back—_

I heard a _poof_ behind me. I turned and when the smoke cleared, I saw a slug almost as big as Lady Chiyoko, with three familiar stripes running down her back. Katsuyu. I blinked.

"Lady Tsunade has requested an audience, my lady. She wishes to ask you to aid her in the upcoming war by allowing her to summon a few of the others to the battlefield—" Katsuyu stopped suddenly. Her tentacles turned towards me and she gasped.

_Tsunade._

Tsunade, who left without a goodbye, a note, or leaving Katsuyu behind to tell us she was gone. Tsunade, who I most remembered for hurting the people I loved and making my brother cry. The anger was as sudden as being struck by lightning.

_Lightning? What was—_

"Oka?" Katsuyu asked in surprise. "Is that you?"

I didn't turn around.

"Lady Tsunade would be overjoyed to learn how much you've improved since the last time we met," Katsuyu said. "You've gained Lady Chiyoko's favor—and you've done it so young. Lady Tsunade always wanted to bring an apprentice to our home."

I seethed. Was this what it felt like to hate someone?

"I could pass a message along to Lady Tsunade, if you'd like," Katsuyu said tentatively to fill the silence.

_A message...?_

I burst out laughing, though none of this was funny. I stood and spun on my heel to face Katsuyu. "I've got a message for you," I said sweetly. "Tell Tsunade I'll never forgive her. Not until the day I die."

Katsuyu drew back like my words burned her. Lady Chiyoko stared at me, but I only smiled.

"Tell her that I hate her," I chirped. "And that if she steps foot in Amegakure again, I'll kill her myself."

A hand covered my mouth before I could say more, and Naga, tense, pulled me back against him. "I'm sorry, Lady Katusyu, Lady Chiyoko," he blurted out. "She didn't mean it."

I stared and stared at Katsuyu, hoping the burn of my gaze said what my mouth couldn't.

Naga made a clumsy attempt at a bow and stepped back, pulling me off the hill with him. I felt the pull of gravity for a second before Naga flipped in mid-air, turning the world upside down. He landed on his feet on the surface of the pond.

Lady Chiyoko was at the edge of the hill, looking down at us.

Naga inhaled when he saw her, grabbed my hand, and quickly pulled me behind the waterfall. I sputtered as I was doused in a layer of goo, but he didn't let go until we were completely out of sight. Then he knelt, turned me to face him as I shook goo out of my hair, and grabbed my shoulders.

His eyes were wide and concerned. He searched my eyes. "Tell me you didn't mean that."

"I did," I said easily. I didn't feel angry anymore, but still, I meant every word.

Shock flashed in his eyes.

I patted his cheek. "She hurt you the most, so I'll hurt her."

Naga shook his head hard. "Oka, _no._ I don't want you to hurt people because they hurt me."

I hummed. "Then I'll do it because I want to."

Naga stared at me. "Oka, you shouldn't _want_ to kill people," he squeezed my arms, a little desperately. "You should _never_ want to hurt someone else unless there's no other choice. You know that, right?"

I looked at my hands. "Then what do I with all this anger? Where does it go?"

"You don't direct it at other people," he told me firmly. "You have to push it down and ignore it."

That didn't help. I _had_ been keeping it down. It's why it burned me up inside when Katsuyu mentioned her. I dropped my hands.

Naga leaned forward, forehead against my stomach. I could feel him shaking. "I should've found another way—against Usagi," he said. "I summoned Namekuji because I was _so angry_ and now—" He stopped and took a shuddering breath. "You don't want that burden, Oka. You don't."

"I wish I could've killed her for you," I said quietly.

Naga jerked back. "No, you don't!" he said roughly.

"Why not?" I asked him.

Naga looked up at me and his eyes went wide. I saw the exact moment he realized that I didn't see what he'd done to Usagi as wrong. He sagged and let go. "Because what I did—it was _wrong,_ Oka."

"Why does it make you feel so bad?" I asked. "She would've killed me and taken you away."

"That's not—" Naga stopped and sighed. "Usagi—she's gone forever because of me. Her life was still valuable, even if she was our enemy."

I thought about that, staring at the bumpy wall of the cave. "More valuable than mine?"

Naga pressed his hands against his face. "How I feel isn't about how much danger we were in. If you were safe and I did that to her—I would feel the same way."

I was trying to understand. I tilted my head at him. "If we were there again, would you still kill her?"

Naga shuddered, shrinking into himself, and didn't answer.

"Why did you cry for her?" I asked. She didn't deserve his tears.

"I'd rather cry for every single person I have to kill than get used to it even once," he said raggedly.

Naga was right in front of me, but I felt like miles were between us. "Why is this making you so sad?"

He dropped his hands. "Because I failed you, and I never even knew it," he said. "And now it's too late to fix it."

"No, you didn't," I denied. "You always took care of me, even when it was hard."

Naga didn't smile like he was supposed to. He closed his eyes.

"You said you didn't regret it, but then you cried," I murmured.

Naga shook his head sadly, "I don't regret stopping her. I regret that she died."

Wasn't that the same thing?

Naga looked up at me. His smile was tiny and shaky, "Will you still kill Tsunade, Oka?"

"Maybe," I answered.

Naga pulled me into a tight hug. He didn't say anything for a long while. "Don't blame Lady Katsuyu," he murmured. "She didn't know. Tsunade told her some stuff, but not all of it."

I patted his back. "I'll always love you the most, Naga."

He squeezed me tighter. "I know."

**スペース**

My right leg connected with Yahiko's wrist, my foot hovering next to his face for a second before I twisted, swinging my left foot towards his neck.

Yahiko blocked the kick with his free hand, making a half-seal with the other as I fell away from him. His eyes never left mine. His chest puffed up, mouth filling with water.

Two could play at that game. I landed on my feet and leapt back, flashing through half-seals with my left hand. Tiger. Boar. Hare. Dog.

Yahiko spat a bullet of water at me, half as tall but twice as wide as he was. I grinned and slammed my right hand on the ground, channeling chakra into the mud. The ground cracked and shook, rumbling as an earth wall shot up in front of me.

The wall was still growing when the water bullet smacked into it, splashing water around the sides.

"You're getting fast, Oka," Yahiko praised.

The bullet would've dented the other side. I pressed my back against the wall. Yahiko used enough chakra to hurt, but not enough to do _real_ damage. He was the only one who ever sparred with me semi-seriously.

"Or maybe you're getting slow," I taunted.

Yahiko hadn't moved since we started sparring. He was tall. Taller than he was last week, and taller still than he was the week before that. He fought with more caution than before, his balance off, still getting used to his long limbs.

"I miss when you were little," Yahiko said wistfully. "You were like a wild dog, but you never insulted me like you do now. What happened?"

My grin widened. "I ate her."

I made the clone seal, but I needed both hands to do it. I pressed my palms against the ground, feeding the earth a quarter of my chakra, and mud twisted up in front of me, hardening into a copy of myself. Color bled into the clone until I was staring at my mirror-image.

I saw her mesh armor, mostly covered by a green shirt a size too big. Mamoru told me I would grow into it, but also that he wouldn't get me another one if I didn't.

Clone me ran out into the open. I grabbed a kunai from the pocket Naga sowed into my pants, squeezing the handle as I peeked around the wall. The other me leapt at Yahiko.

He caught her punch in one hand and she popped like a balloon. Mud splattered everywhere, aiming for his eyes, nose, and mouth. His other hand was already up, predicting the move, and most of the mud missed their targets. Streaks of brown dripped down his cheeks and forehead.

I threw the kunai anyway. Yahiko took a step back and it sailed harmlessly past him. "That only worked once, Oka. It won't get me again—" the back of his ankle collided with Namekuji's body and he tipped backwards. Yahiko could've caught himself, I knew, but instead he let himself hit the mud with a wet _thud._

"It worked three times," Konan chimed.

Namekuji squirmed out from under him in pieces, then reformed next to Yahiko's head.

Yahiko, arms and legs spread out, stared blankly at him.

"I'm helping," Namekuji said, though his tone said he'd done it simply because he could.

"The god of peace, bested by a slug," Konan teased. She was off to the side, a small pile of paper on the ground in front of her. She was supposed to be trying to channel earth chakra into the slips and clump them together to form a spear.

Mamoru-sensei didn't open his eyes. He sat back against a wall of the hideout, hand on his stomach.

"I'm starting to want slug soup for dinner," Yahiko said.

"It wouldn't be good," Namekuji said back. "Sour, and my acid would melt a hole through your stomach, if it gets that far."

"I'll take my chances," Yahiko said begrudgingly.

I shifted out from behind the wall and sat opposite of Namekuji, crossing my legs. "I win," I told Yahiko.

Yahiko turned his head just long enough to look at me blankly, then glared at Namekuji. "Slug soup with _salt,"_ he emphasized.

"I don't see how that would change the taste."

"The revenge would taste sweet enough."

Namekuji didn't answer. He turned, staring out past the flatland to a cluster of thick, bushy trees that circled the area. A second later Konan went still, eyes shooting in the same direction. Clumps of paper floated up, folding against her body like a second skin.

Yahiko sat up fast. I looked too, but I couldn't see anyone. Instead, I heard a branch crack, the sound of loud, lumbering footsteps. Harsh, uneven breathing.

Mamoru-sensei was abruptly standing on the roof of the hideout like he'd always been there. I watched him stiffen, surprise rippling across his face. Yahiko was looking at him too.

I stood as a large man hobbled out of the trees. I looked up and up at him. He was taller than Mamoru-sensei, wider than Naga and Yahiko would be standing side-by-side. He stopped, staring at us. His left eye was swollen shut, blood spilling over his eyelids and painting red lines down to his chin. His face was bruised, flak jacket crusted with sweat and blood and mud. One of his hands covered a chest wound, the other over part of his stomach.

He took a step forward, eyes on Mamoru, mouth opening. His legs gave out. No one moved when he hit the ground, loud enough that a group of birds took flight.

Yahiko glanced back at Mamoru. "Sensei, do you know—"

"Get Nagato," he interrupted, terse. A kunai appeared in his hand, his eyes darting from the man to the trees. He disappeared with a swirl of water.

A beat passed.

"Namekuji," Yahiko said.

Namekuji glanced at the ground. A reverse summoning seal appeared on the ground in front of him.

A puff of smoke and then Naga was standing on the seal, shirtless, slime goo on his head. He blinked. He'd gotten tall too. More than Konan, less than Yahiko.

I hadn't seen him in weeks. My fingers curled into half-fists.

Yahiko pointed behind him and Naga turned, making a surprised noise when he saw the man. Blood and rain slowly mixed in the grass, forming pink puddles. Still he hesitated, glancing at Yahiko.

Yahiko gave him a lazy grin. "Need me to remind you how much we believe in you?" he asked.

Naga smiled a little, shaking his head. "I didn't know if he was trustworthy," he explained. "But you wouldn't have brought me back if he wasn't." He tied his hair back, walking towards the man. "I doubted myself once. I won't do it again."

"Finally!" Konan cheered.

"What should I do?" I asked Yahiko. Because watching Naga made me feel helpless and angry.

_Lady Chiyoko lied. I left and he still didn't come back._

Yahiko stroked his chin, looking at something over my head. "We should help Nagato," he decided.

Naga was on his knees, struggling to roll the man over.

"You could ask for help, you know," Konan called, rolling her eyes as she went to help him.

It took all four of us to push him onto his back.

I sat back, breathing hard, watching Naga mutter to himself. His glowing hands were hovering over the man's chest wound.

Yahiko stood, facing Konan. "You should help Mamoru-sensei out," he said. "'Don't think he needs it, but it won't hurt to have a sensor in case Root _did_ follow him."

Tadao had been followed by Root too. I looked at the man, and I knew who he was.

Osamu.

_Did Hanzo the bastard do this to you too?_

Konan sat up, hands on her knees. "Only if we have broiled fish for dinner," she said.

Yahiko paused. "Mamoru-sensei could be in a fight right now."

"He isn't," Naga quietly murmured.

"He could be hurt, Konan," Yahiko went on.

"Nagato _just_ got back and you're ignoring him already?"

"I thought you were his student," Yahiko said, ignoring that too.

Konan scoffed. "We're _all_ his students."

"The favorite, leaving him to die," Yahiko lamented.

"All you have to do is say yes, Yahiko," Konan deadpanned.

"I'll have to tell him all about how you abandoned him when he gets back."

I tuned them out, shifting closer to Naga. I didn't look at him.

_It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair._

Why did baby slugs get to spend more time with my brother than I did?

"Will he be okay?" I asked, because Naga told me to shove down my anger.

"He should be," Naga said distractedly. "The wounds _look_ deep, but the blade only cut into the fatty tissue in his stomach and didn't reach his lungs, which I was worried about. Something ruptured a blood vessel in his eye, but I need to fix this first..." he trailed off.

I hummed, though I only understood about half of what he said. "Why isn't Namekuji helping you?"

"I'm hungry," Namekuji said in answer. He inched closer, then, ignoring my confusion, slithered up Naga's back and settled half-draped over his shoulder.

Naga's eyes cleared, brows furrowing. "I'm using it," he murmured, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"You have a lot of chakra," Namekuji drawled. "You can spare some. And you owe me. You didn't say you'd be gone this long. Yahiko's hard to look after. He doesn't like to stay still."

Naga smiled faintly. "I know," he murmured. He started muttering again.

"Fine, _fine,"_ Konan said behind me. "I'll go. But you better not start another fire!"

"That was so _long ago._ Your brain will rot if you keep holding onto the past, you know," Yahiko said.

Konan snorted, then went after Mamoru.

"I thought you liked beetles," I said, looking back at Namekuji.

"I do. They're crunchy," Namekuji told me.

I stuck out my tongue in disgust.

"But I can't live off them," he continued. "You can't live off of apples, can you?"

"I can," I said with absolute certainty.

Namekuji ignored me. He was staring at the back of Naga's head.

"I wished he was here too," it was a breath of a whisper, so quiet I couldn't hear myself.

Namekuji looked at me anyway.

I looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> スペース - Space
> 
> I planned to use the first half of this chapter to explain how Namekuji's acid works. You get the wild war child instead.  
> Osamu is technically a canon character. Look up 'original Akatsuki' and he's the big guy. You'll know the one. I'm not sure if he was named or had any lines, but his name is Osamu now.
> 
> Yahiko - 12  
> Nagato/Konan - 11  
> Oka - 8
> 
> Oh and, because I am a cruel and vindictive God, I'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that Yahiko died at 15.


	17. A Man Named Osamu - Part 2

"I wish that I could just erase,

the memories that I've come to hate,

and only leave the good behind,

I don't think I would mind."

-Astronauts, rachie

* * *

We had to move the table.

Osamu sat in a corner, staring down at his hands. His flak-jacket was off, the sleeves torn into strips. Most of his right sleeve was looped around his head, covering his eye. Other pieces had been tied together, coated in Namekuji's slime, and then wrapped around his chest and stomach wounds. The slime was supposed to numb the pain for a little while.

It took Naga only half the time to fix Osamu as it took for Mamoru.

Yahiko and I had pushed the table back into the kitchen area. Osamu took up a third of the hideout all by himself.

Mamoru-sensei sat at one end on the table, a cold cup of tea in his hand, staring down at it. Yahiko was across from him, nibbling on a small, half-eaten fish. Next to him, Konan broke off the bones of hers and ate them.

I sat on a counter, swinging my feet. Naga was on the floor, wearing a shirt that was too small.

Mamoru finally looked up. "Was it Shuji?" he asked Osamu.

Konan paused. I stopped swinging my feet.

Osamu didn't look up. His eyes were sad. "No," he answered. "It wasn't."

Mamoru clutched his cup a little tighter.

"It was Lord Hanzo—" he stopped. His fingers curled. "Shuji might've started this, but it was Hanzo who decided that having friends was a weakness he couldn't afford anymore. He... He isn't the same. After you and Tadao—" he faltered. "Hanzo stopped trusting anyone who wasn't himself."

Mamoru's cup cracked.

"I thought if I saw him alone, if I talked to him and reminded him of the peace we used to fight for—" Osamu's shoulders sagged. "I thought I could fix this. But he wouldn't see me. He wouldn't hear anything I tried to tell him."

"What happened?" Mamoru asked tightly.

Osamu was silent for a few seconds. "Lord—" he cut himself off. "I was at the bar looking for proof that Shuji was a traitor, and then Hanzo came in. He was dressed for war. He stopped asking me to watch his back a long time ago, but I still did everything he asked of me," he released a long, tired breath. "Hanzo told me I was a liability, and then he attacked."

"How did you get away?" Yahiko asked. He leaned back, fish forgotten on the table.

Osamu's eyes snapped to his, and I saw hesitance. I saw the look Mamoru gave us before Naga healed him. He looked at Yahiko like he was a kid inserting himself into a conversation for grown-ups.

Yahiko saw it too, because his smile was faint.

Osamu glanced at Mamoru, and his eyes asked him to talk privately somewhere else.

Yahiko shook his head. "There's nothing you can say that'll be worse than what we've already seen," he said lightly. "I met Konan on a battlefield," he nodded at her, but she didn't smile. "We used to steal weapons off the dead. We saw Hanzo fight the sanin. It's too late to try and protect us."

Osamu frowned deeply. "It shouldn't be that way," he rumbled. "The village—it can be better than _this_ —"

"It will be better," Yahiko interrupted matter-of-factly. " _After_ I've allied with Hanzo and stopped the war."

Osamu stared at him, eyes wide.

"We're not ready yet," Yahiko admitted. "Almost. But once we are, we'll bring peace back to the world. You and everyone else that doubt me only have to sit back and watch, because we'll change the world." He grinned. "We'll start here, and we'll stop the rain."

There was almost wonder in Osamu's eyes.

There was a moment—Naga smiling, Konan not-so-discreetly taking Yahiko's fish—that almost felt normal. Like Naga's visit wasn't temporary. Like a stranger wasn't sitting in our hideout, depressed and wounded.

Then Mamoru spoke, "Answer the question."

The air felt colder. Osamu pressed his knuckles together. "Hanzo let me go."

The cup shattered in Mamoru's grip. Blood and glass and tea spilled all over the table.

Konan gasped and shot up, scooping up a small blanket.

Mamoru never took his eyes off Osamu. I only saw Mamoru-sensei angry one other time, when he told us about Shuji and Danzo. It was almost like it was the answer he expected, but the last one he wanted to hear.

"I never fought back," Osamu explained. "I still thought of him as my friend. He was trying to kill me, but I still called him my lord. Instead, he exiled me—"

"I only fought back _after_ he took my arm," Mamoru snapped.

Konan mopped up the tea and herded the glass into a neat pile. Naga didn't move to heal Mamoru's bloody hand.

Osamu's eyes darted away. "Tadao—he told me that during your fight, Hanzo hesitated," he said tentatively.

Mamoru stared hard at him, the promise of violence swirling in his eyes.

"Sensei," Konan said, quiet and calm, a blanket full of glass in her lap.

Mamoru's eyes flicked to hers. A second later he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I wasn't trying to get on your bad side—" Osamu began, apologetic.

"What happened to the Root agents that followed you?" Mamoru interrupted him.

"I took care of them," he said, hesitant. "There were only four. Hanzo should've known to send more if he wanted others to kill me for him."

"It wasn't Hanzo," Konan pointed out. She was standing, carrying a wrapped bundle of cup fragments.

Osamu blinked at her.

"The Hanzo I knew wasn't a coward," Mamoru explained for her. "That old bastard we met from Konohagakure is the one who sent them after you."

Realization dawned in Osamu's eyes, but then his brows furrowed. "What would Danzo gain from killing me?"

"You're a loose end," Mamoru answered as Konan went outside to get rid of the pieces. "Hanzo cut ties with you, but if you decided to come back, you could still have some influence over him."

Osamu looked troubled. "He would kill me before he let me speak to him again."

Mamoru shook his head. "Danzo doesn't know Hanzo like we did."

Osamu didn't respond.

All eyes went to Naga when he stood. "I'm heading back," he announced.

I looked at him and I knew that this made him remember why he stayed away. Root. Usagi. Danzo. All tying back to the fact that Naga didn't want to have to kill anyone else.

"You'll be okay, right?" His hands were on my shoulders.

I stared up at Naga and felt like a kunai was twisting my insides, digging deeper and deeper the longer I looked at him.

_How do I make you stay?_

I tried to smile, because his training made him happy. It made him stronger. I didn't have the words to change his mind.

Yahiko and Konan didn't stop him because this was still the most dangerous part of his training. It could be bad if he didn't take it seriously. Maybe they were surer than I was that he would come back.

I couldn't smile.

Concern bloomed in Naga's eyes. "Oka?" he asked.

_Why is it so hard to tell you how I feel?_

My fists clenched, because they were all I ever had. I knew what to say for small things like making Yahiko laugh or Konan smile, but not for the big things, like telling Naga how to feel better after killing someone. It was always other people that spoke for me.

Naga, who talked to Yahiko the first time we met. Yahiko, who decided what we were going to do and how to do it. Konan, who only wanted me to listen when she told me about her Mama and Papa.

I was always action. Naga put an apple in my hand and told me to eat. Jiraya put a kunai in my hand and taught me to fight. Mamoru-sensei gave me the tools to make a wall. No one ever taught me to make people feel better.

So, I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I lunged at him.

My fingers dug into his shoulders and Naga toppled, crying out. Konan stood in the doorway, Namekuji behind her, mouth hanging open as Naga hit the ground. Mamoru turned fast, startled.

Osamu, not knowing me or Naga or anyone, still tried to reach out and stop us. It was only the pain in his middle that made him falter.

Yahiko was the only one who didn't move at all.

I dug my knee into Naga's stomach, listening to the breath leave him in a rush. His eyes were wide as he stared up at me. "Oka—" he coughed. "What—"

I raised my fist, hovering above him, rage and anger and guilt squeezing and squeezing me until I was shaking.

Rage, because Naga always knew how I felt, except the one time I needed him to.

Anger at Lady Chiyoko, at Naga for not coming back, for leaving so soon.

Guilt because I was hurting him and he didn't deserve it.

"Oka!" Konan said, all concern and the need to help. She took a step forward, her right foot sinking deeply into Namekuji's body. She made a surprised sound and tried to free herself, but he didn't let go.

I lifted my arm higher. It would be so easy to punch him. He was looking at me— _at my fist_ —and he was bewildered. I wanted to, so he'd finally _finally_ understand, but he wouldn't. Naga was confused and concerned, but he didn't speak the language of violence like I did.

If I hit him, nothing would change. I lowered my hand, suddenly very tired.

Naga's smile was shaky, and he only did it because he thought he always had to smile for me. "Still the same little wolf as always," he said, trying to be playful, his eyes searching mine.

I climbed off him. "I don't know how to make you stay," I said quietly.

His eyes widened. The smile faded.

"It hurts," I admitted. "It always hurts when you go." All I had were my stupid fists and the kunai in my pocket, but they were too harsh for this. "Bye, Naga," I said, giving him one last look, and then I walked away.

.

.

.

Mamoru sat beside a ghost and tried to make himself believe he was real.

After Tadao, Mamoru convinced himself that the next time he saw Osamu, it would be as a corpse. He mentally prepared for it, because he couldn't afford to go completely numb again when he was depended on. The grief had only recently stopped feeling so raw.

There was a candle on the table made from recycled wax, throwing flickering orange light around the room. He had a vague memory of getting up to light it when he couldn't see his hand in front of his face anymore.

Konan was asleep, curled on her side in the hallway. Nagato was on his stomach on the floor in front of Mamoru, Oka facedown against his chest. A blanket was tangled around her.

After her outburst Nagato had been subdued, watching her all day with sad eyes. He'd barely moved since then.

Yahiko was close enough to be used as Oka's footrest. He was on his stomach, head turned away.

Osamu was looking at him, sneaking glances when he thought he wasn't paying attention.

There was an awkwardness between them that hadn't been there before. It wasn't Osamu's fault—other than having his loyalty spat on, he was the same. Mamoru was the one that was different.

He didn't trust Osamu. It was hard to, when he'd already quietly mourned him. His instincts told him the man was a fake, a transformation, but the personality was too spot on.

What did it say about him that he didn't feel relieved that his old friend was alive? He just felt tired.

Namekuji liked to sleep in the bathroom cupboard, the sink, and several other strange places. Mamoru never asked why. Namekuji was a weird slug (a perfect fit for his students) and he left it at that. It helped a little that his students all acted like it was perfectly normal—

"Daiki's dead," Osamu said suddenly.

The name didn't ring a bell. Mamoru glanced sideways at Osamu. "Daiki?"

"The bartender," he clarified. "The one Tadao went to for information back before..."

Huh. He didn't know the bartender had a name. No one ever called him by it, anyway. Though, last time Mamoru checked, 'the bartender' had retired from spying for Hanzo.

"He told me about Tadao," Osamu said quietly.

Mamoru looked at him, and he saw the deep abyss of grief in Osamu's eyes, as fresh as the dirt he used to bury Tadao.

He didn't want to talk about Tadao.

"Hanzo must've been following you around for a while," Mamoru said idly.

Osamu studied him and his lack of a reaction, his eyes widening. "You—You knew?"

His missing arm ached. Mamoru contemplated waking up one of his students for a late-night training (distraction) session and thought about who would complain the least (Nagato).

Osamu shuffled, turning a bit more towards him. "Tadao was hurt when I last saw him. Badly hurt. But he was _alive._ What happened to him?"

Numbness crept inside Mamoru's head. "It doesn't matter," he said, harsher than he meant it to be. "He's dead. Let him _be_ dead."

Osamu drew back, hurt.

Mamoru couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry. "Did Hanzo finally feed Shuji to Ibuse?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," Osamu said, but he was looking at Mamoru like he was something alien. "We don't meet like we used to. I last saw him two days ago."

Maybe it was better that way. Death was too easy for him.

"You look and sound the same, but you're not _you._ I don't know this you at all."

Mamoru's brow twitched. "I _look_ the same?"

Osamu looked at his empty sleeve and said nothing at all.

"Who told you about this place, Osamu?" Mamoru asked, more seriously.

"Daiki," Osamu admitted, looking at his lap. "He didn't tell me your location. He _only_ told me that Tadao went east. He said to keep going until I reached the border."

The bartender was the type of man that could stand directly in front of someone, and if that person was questioned later, they wouldn't remember him at all.

It told Mamoru that the child-soldiers Root called agents visited the bar and talked about mission details within earshot of the bartender. It had only been a matter of time before they found Inu or what was left of Usagi after all.

_They thought Tadao killed them._

The numbness spread, creeping down his spine.

"Why did you come here?" Mamoru asked, because he had to. "You said you were still loyal. Hanzo'll wish he dealt with you when he had the chance if you're seen with me."

"You're _not_ a traitor," Osamu said firmly, then his eyes dropped to the floor. "Hanzo didn't give me a chance to think about what Daiki said about Tadao. It wasn't until after that I realized what it meant that Tadao was dead."

Osamu clenched his fists. "I interrupted their fight," he admitted. "I didn't know why it happened. Tadao never did anything. I thought it was Shuji again, but it wasn't. Tadao was looking for you. That's _all he did._ What Hanzo did to Tadao was too far."

_It wasn't Shuji._

It took a second for Mamoru to process that, to realize just how much damage Shuji had done the first time with him. He'd damaged Hanzo's relationships with his friends so much that all he had to do was sit back and watch as Hanzo's paranoia ate him alive.

Mamoru glanced at his students, because it was all he could do to keep the grief from coming back.

Osamu looked up at him. "I never imagined you as a teacher," he said.

It took Mamoru a second to even realize he spoke. "It wasn't my idea," he said. "Believe me."

To Osamu, it might've sounded sarcastic, even regretful, but Mamoru owed his students more than they would ever know. They'd given him a purpose, when, without the deal Yahiko roped him into, it would've been just as easy to go back to Hanzo's tower for revenge and get himself killed.

"You should watch yourself around that one," Mamoru said, gesturing towards Yahiko. "He's a lot more trouble than he looks."

Osamu followed his hand. "Do you really think they could do what we couldn't?"

"Without a doubt," Mamoru said.

Osamu was quiet for a few seconds. "Iwagakure declared war on Konohagakure," he told him, almost reluctantly. "There were small skirmishes before, but now it's official."

Mamoru closed his eyes. He stood. "You should rest," he said mildly. He felt Osamu's eyes on him as he walked to the door, but he didn't look back as he opened it and stepped out.

.

.

.

Yahiko's eyes were half open.

He'd woken up when Oka's foot dug painfully into his kidney, but it was Osamu and Mamoru-sensei that kept him awake. He was silent as they talked, breathing slowly, evenly, feigning sleep.

He heard everything.

Only when he heard the front door shut did he let himself fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up readers, because it's time to dive into the timeline.
> 
> Nagato was 19 when Naruto was born (Naruto's Part II age minus Nagato's Part II age).  
> In Axis' canon, there was a two year gap between the Second and Third Shinobi World War.  
> Itachi Uchiha is 4 years old.  
> axis!Hidan is 8 years old (being a year older than Itachi, canon!Hidan is 5, so the age-up isn't too high).  
> Sasori is 12 years old.  
> Deidara isn't born yet (and I'm extremely tempted to age him up).  
> Kakuzu is a missing-nin.  
> Kisame Hoshigaki is not a member of the Seven Ninja Swordsman yet.  
> Obito is not Tobi yet.


	18. A Girl Named Kota - Part 1

"Scattering petals down the road without an end,

left on the battleground for one I call my friend,

maybe he loved me as he took me by the hand

and tried to understand."

-EmpathP, Secret Garden 

* * *

Yahiko sucked in hard, chest rising, cheeks filling with air. He was making the tiger seal. He paused, leaned forward, and blew it all out in one big rush. Nothing happened.

Mamoru turned a deadpan stare onto Osamu. "You showed him a fire jutsu." It wasn't a question, but an acknowledgement of a fact.

Osamu stood just in front of us—in the rain only because he couldn't fit under the roof without crouching. The makeshift bandage around his eye was tinged brown-yellow, pieces of thread hanging off the ends. I saw him take it off only once, and that was to test if he could see out of it.

He couldn't.

The middle of his left eye was a milky brown, the white parts around it filled with red. Naga had healed it a little, but the damage had already been done when he came to us.

"He told me it was for ninjutsu practice," Osamu defended.

"Believing him was your first mistake," Konan chirped, laying on her stomach, folding paper into miniature cicadas.

"His chakra isn't fire-natured?" Osamu asked, brows furrowed.

"He wishes," Konan scoffed.

"It's water," I provided. I gently prodded the wings of one of the paper cicadas Konan placed in a loose circle around Mamoru and me. It felt rough and scratchy.

Rat. Dog. Tiger. Yahiko inhaled, exhaled, and failed again.

Osamu looked alarmed, eyes darting to Yahiko's back. "Then he shouldn't be trying to mimic me. He could seriously hurt himself—" he stopped when he saw that no one else shared his concern.

"He knows the risks," Mamoru dismissed. "If he hurts himself, that's on him."

"That's cold, Mamoru-sensei," Konan said, but her happy tone didn't change. She waved a half-folded cicada at him in mock admonishment.

Mamoru eyed it. "He's a freak of nature," he amended. "He'll be fine."

"Better."

"Can you teach me a fire jutsu too?" I asked Osamu.

Osamu gaze shot to Mamoru's, more alarmed than before.

Mamoru ignored him and raised an eyebrow at me, "Last I checked, you were still learning how to do Headhunter."

I pouted. "I can do _both._ "

"And you still need two hands to make an Earth Clone," he added.

"I can do all _three,_ " I said.

"Speaking of being taught new things, when are you gonna teach me a new genjutsu, Mamoru-sensei?" Konan asked, smiling, feet curled in the air.

Mamoru-sensei tilted his head back against the wall.

"You haven't taught us anything new since, well..." she glanced up at Osamu, who blinked at her. "Osamu's healed enough, so we should get back to learning, _right?_ "

I offered one of the cicadas to Osamu.

Mamoru-sensei closed his eyes.

Osamu took it, looking bewildered, his cupped hands dwarfing the paper creation.

Konan's smile widened, "You haven't been acting like a proper sensei, _sensei_."

"A proper sensei would've disappeared on you as soon as he had the chance," Mamoru told her.

"Are you calling yourself a bad sensei?" Konan asked innocently.

Mamoru shook his head, "Can't you let an old man have a day off?"

"You've had _many_ days off."

Osamu considered Yahiko, looked back at us, then wandered over to Yahiko.

I watched him for a moment. "Is he okay?" I asked Mamoru.

Mamoru opened his eyes. "It's an adjustment for him," he answered. "He'll have to get used to it until he decides to stay or leave the village."

_Leave the village._

I waited to feel something. The urge to convince Osamu to stay and teach us, the wish to help him get better the same way we helped Mamoru-sensei. But when I looked at Osamu, I didn't feel anything at all.

I heard ripping paper behind me.

Konan shot to her feet. "Namekuji— _no ,_ " she said, eyes wide, looking past me. "Please, not again."

Namekuji, only half of his body outside, was in the middle of eating a paper cicada.

" _Namekuji_ ," Konan pleaded, dropping to her knees. "Those take _so_ long to make."

Namekuji stopped for a second, then sucked the other half into his mouth.

Konan made a noise of despair and threw herself at him. He split into pieces before she landed, narrowly avoiding a full body tackle.

Konan landed on her stomach, still for a moment, then she pounded her fists against the grass.

" _Make him stop eating my paper_ ," she wailed, facedown.

I decided to intervene then. I stood and scooped Namekuji up, taking him inside. "Why are you always so mean to Konan?" I asked. He didn't feel so heavy anymore.

"I'm not," Namekuji answered. "I'm mean to everyone. Equally."

Naga sat in the middle of the room, flipping through his old medical textbook. He carefully closed it as I approached, arms full of a slimy slug, and nudged it behind him.

"Why do you have to eat _her_ paper?" I asked, plopping down.

"Because it's tasty."

I tried to put him on the ground next to me, but he squirmed his way into my lap instead. "You could eat other things that are tasty and not Konan's paper," I informed him.

"No."

I blinked down at him.

"Because I don't want to," he added.

"She makes slugs for you sometimes," I told him. "You could be nicer."

Namekuji curled up into a ball. "I'm going to sleep."

"I won't let you sleep on me anymore if you keep being mean," I threatened.

Namekuji snorted and didn't respond.

I stared at him, trying to make it clear how serious I was, but he only relaxed more.

"I think he likes you more than me," Naga said, smiling softly.

I paused, looking up. "When are you going back, Naga?"

His smile slipped. He sighed. "You should've told me how you felt about me being gone before, Oka."

"I didn't know how," I said quietly.

He frowned. "You were with me in Shikkotsu. You should've said—"

"Telling you to come back wouldn't make you feel better," I interrupted.

His eyes widened.

I looked away, "I couldn't, anyway. Your eyes were so sad when you looked at me, Naga."

Shock, then a flash of regret.

"You always look at me like that now," I said.

Naga pressed his hands against his face. "I didn't think—It's not your fault."

"You said you 'failed me', and I keep hearing it over and over in my head," I whispered.

Naga dropped his hands. "That's because I wanted you to grow up differently, Oka. I wanted you to be better than me, better than this dumb war. It—it just affected you a lot more than I thought it did," he said tiredly.

"What's wrong with the way I grew up now?"

Naga leaned back until he was laying on the ground, staring up at the roof. "I keep saying the wrong thing," he said softly. "Remember those story books Mama used to read to us?"

I remembered the story Naga used to read to me about the princess from an island on the sea. When I tried to think of Mama's voice, I heard his instead. But I didn't stop him.

"Remember the monk who carved the moon and the merchant who made an island from the stars?" he continued. "Those stories are way different, but neither is wrong or bad for not being the same. I just wanted your story to be a different one, Oka."

I followed his gaze to the ceiling, and I tried hard to imagine it. Mama, her hair red and flowing, her eyes...

What color were her eyes?

What did her nose look like?

I tried to conjure the image of the monk, or the merchant, but they wouldn't come. Maybe I did know those stories when I was little, but I didn't now.

"Tell me the words to make you forget about Usagi," I said.

Naga's eyes snapped to mine.

"You remembered her again when Osamu talked about Danzo," I told him. "It made you want to leave."

Naga stared straight up. "I don't want to forget," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I'll like the person I'll be if I do," he whispered.

I frowned. What did he mean by that?

"Next time, if I'm making you feel bad, tell me right away," Naga told me.

_Next time...?_

He looked sad, but it wasn't for me this time. It was for himself.

"How?" I asked.

Naga looked at me.

"I don't always have the words to tell you how I feel," I explained. "I'm not Yahiko or Konan or you. It's harder for me."

Naga's eyes widened a fraction. He sat up, inching closer until our knees were touching. "Then punch me," he said.

I stared at him.

"That's how you tried to tell me how you felt before, right?"

I shook my head, "I never really wanted to punch you."

"You don't have to be Yahiko or Konan or me," Naga said firmly. "You don't need to make a speech to tell me how you feel. Tell me I'm making you sad and I'll understand. You don't have to say anything else."

Was it really that easy?

"You're making me sad, Naga," I murmured.

Naga took part of my scarf between his fingers. "Give this to me the next time I go," he said. "That way I have to come back fast to return it to you."

I smiled a little, carefully shifting around so I could lean on him. "Only if you don't get any baby slime goo on it."

Naga smiled right back at me, "Promise."

.

.

.

When I woke up a little later and went back outside Yahiko was panting, hands on his knees, each breath coming out as a cloud of ashy smoke. His lips were black.

Osamu looked incredulous.

"Believe me yet?" Yahiko asked between gasps.

**絆**

"No one out there believed Hanzo exiled Osamu. They think he's dead," Yahiko said, hooking a thumb at the front door behind him. "We need to show them that he's alive. People will wonder how he survived, start asking questions, and then—"

"People that are hurt or sick might think there's a medic-nin hiding in Amegakure somewhere," Konan realized. "And they'll search all over looking for him."

Yahiko shook his head. "Did you have to interrupt me? I make this huge master plan for our first step towards taking over the world just so you can steal it from me in the end."

Konan raised an eyebrow at him. "'First step?'"

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "Twenty-eighth step doesn't have the same ring to it."

"If he goes, Hanzo will be alerted immediately," Mamoru said, steering the conversation back on track. "How can you be sure the Salamander won't show?"

"Well," Yahiko drawled, pointing at him. "If what you and Osamu said about him is true, Hanzo will be too paranoid to face Osamu himself in case it's a trap set by the people who knew him best. It'll take way too long for him to call together a group of shinobi he trusts to go with him, so the success of our first mission depends on if you were right or wrong about Hanzo."

Osamu's brows furrowed, all concern and worry.

"And if it fails?" Konan asked in a deadpan.

Yahiko waved her off. "Konan, the adults are talking."

She responded by chucking Naga's medical book at him.

After Yahiko hastily ducked and it bounced into a corner, I went to retrieve it.

"Promise me you won't grow up to be like her, Oka," Yahiko pleaded.

Konan eyed Naga's textbook as I sat back down, and I hugged it to my chest. She looked at Namekuji next.

Namekuji snorted, "Keep your hands away from me, Blue."

Yahiko turned to face her. "It won't fail," he said, the confidence in his eyes like a beacon, drawing us all in. He broke into a smile. "Come on. Have some faith in me."

Konan stared at him like he was a completely different person, like she wasn't throwing books at him a second before.

"See?" Mamoru stressed, shaking his head. "This kid."

Osamu looked a little like he was finally starting to understand why we followed Yahiko.

Yahiko held out his fist. "But then again," he began. "We should _all_ have a say in this. Put your hand on top of mine if you think we should do this."

I inched forward first, still wearily cradling Naga's book, and put my hand on his fist.

Konan, avoiding his gaze, put hers on top of mine.

Mamoru eyed our hands. "I agree to the plan, but I'm not doing that."

Osamu hesitated, but slowly joined his hand on top of ours. "This is a bad idea. But I think it'll work and I'm not sure why," he said honestly.

"It's 'cause Yahiko made you believe we could," I explained happily.

Osamu stared at me.

"Namekuji?" Yahiko asked.

"Nagato's busy," Namekuji said back. "Do your weird arm thing without him."

Yahiko shook his head. "I wasn't asking for him. You're part of this too."

Namekuji looked up at him.

"You're asking the slug to vote on this?" Osamu asked.

"Coming from the human that smells like cheese," Namekuji shot back, inching closer.

Osamu blinked.

Yahiko lowered his hand, forcing all of ours lower too. Konan and Osamu both retracted theirs before Namekuji could touch them, but I didn't move as his slimy head brushed against my hand. Yahiko grinned, "Operation: Recruit More Members is a go."

In the background, I heard Osamu quietly asking Mamoru if he really smelled like cheese.

.

.

.

Konan dropped a silver-green fish onto the counter of a food stand. It was a bigger fish from the lake, its body almost completely moss green.

The counter creaked, tilting heavily to one side as soon as she let go. It was a rushed patchwork of wood, steel, and screws scavenged from rubble and cobbled together. The sharp ends of screws poked out of the front.

The merchant held the fish in place. "Thanks kid," he said gruffly. "At least someone's trying to keep us all alive out here." His eyes flicked up and away from Osamu. He was a pale man, his skin tinted yellow. He was missing his thumb and pinky on his left hand.

He gathered up the fish and shuffled over to a crate on the ground behind him, using his body as a shield to the rain as he pushed it open. I watched him wiggle the fish into an empty black bag, shove it in the crate, and secure the lid back over the top.

He grabbed a sack hidden behind the stand on the way back. It made a wet, squishy sound when he put it on the counter, the outside stained brown with juice. It smelled like fruit and rot.

"Don't expect me to be able to pay you again if you bring another one," he warned. "People are even begging to eat rotten food these days, 'an the last shipment of the fresh stuff we were supposed to get from Kusagakure was raided. On top of that, they're gonna start sending stuff to the bigger villages over us soon and..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

How was it any different from the way things had always been?

"Just... thanks," he grunted.

Konan pulled the sack off the counter, all smiles. "We don't do this to be paid, so no worries," she chirped. "We're just happy to help. This—" she gestured at the sack. "—is a bonus."

The sack was filled with food that had arrived spoiled, rotten enough to make most people sick eating them. The merchant separated all the rotten ones he found from the rest and put them in a separate sack for us. Fortunately, we'd been eating half-expired food for years.

The merchant stared at Konan for a moment, then looked down. "Amazing that a place like this produced any kind kids at all."

Konan shook her head. "'Course it did. You just have to know where to look for them." She turned away. "I'll bring a bigger one next time."

There were makeshift stands and tents everywhere I looked, some tarps propped up by twisted beams of metal, others made from parts of rotting chairs and tables. A group of adults stood on a pile of rubble, creating the skeleton of a building out of mud and rocks and pieces of whatever they could find.

Most outright turned their backs to Osamu, but I saw a few of them recognize him, flashes of surprise and fear before they avoided his eyes.

Three days from now, Osamu would wait on a bridge for people to find him. Mamoru-sensei would be there too, hidden, concealing Osamu from view in case Root, Hanzo, or someone who wasn't hurt showed. Every day after that Osamu would wait at a different bridge.

Konan opened the sack, humming happily as she inspected what was inside. The smell grew into something sourer and Osamu wrinkled his nose, stopping his nervous inspection of the few rooftops around us to eye the bag.

"Why would he pay you with rotten food?" Osamu asked. He was on Konan's left, and I was on her right.

"So we can eat it," Konan said bluntly. Her hand was smeared with brown juice and fruit clumps when she pulled it back out, holding something green in the vague shape of an apple. "Here, Oka."

I stepped closer, sniffing the 'apple' cautiously. I looked up at her instead of taking it.

Konan shook her head. "Not all apples are red," she teased.

I hesitated but took the so-called apple. It was bitter and soft when I bit into it, but undeniably an apple. I swallowed, turning it around in my hands. "What other color apples are there?"

Konan hummed, "Yellow, I think."

My eyes widened. "Where do the yellow ones grow?"

"If I remember right... Kumogakure."

"Can we go?"

Konan snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth. "One day," she said through her fingers.

I smiled. Looking over, I saw that Osamu was pinching his nose closed. I sniffed, but the sack didn't smell _that_ bad. Our first hideout smelled worse.

"There's too much food in there for you four to be able to eat before it's completely inedible. What'll you do with them then?" Osamu asked, hesitant, still figuring out where he fit between the five of us.

Konan closed the sack by tying the opening into a knot. "We have to sort them first," she explained. "Separate the ones that are _really_ goners from the ones we can still eat. Then we'll come back and give the good ones to people who need it. Namekuji will eat the bad ones. Yahiko might too."

Osamu paused, slowly shaking his head. "If the four of you met Hanzo before..." he trailed off. "You might've shown him a different path."

I stopped as we walked past an alley, turning to look at a small figure huddled in the dark.

They were shivering, arms wrapped around their knees, fighting for warmth even as each drop of rain felt like ice against their exposed skin.

I cupped my hands, watching rain splatter and pool between my palms.

I knew how they felt, because Naga and I used to be the kids in an alley, cold and alone, ignored until we were pests people wanted to get rid of. I released a long breath. I was moving before I knew what I wanted to do.

Her (?) head jerked up and she scrambled back, pushing and kicking against the concrete, expecting to be hurt.

I thought of the faces I could barely remember, the big hand that grabbed my brother, pulling him away from me. I felt a sudden tidal wave of rage, churning and churning inside me until I almost felt sick.

I wished...

I wished I remembered them better so I could hurt them like I would hurt Tsunade.

The girl pushed wet strands of shaggy black hair out of her eyes, staring up at me. Her lips were pale and chapped, her nose swollen purple-blue, her cheeks sunken.

I held out my hand, offering her my quarter-eaten apple.

I watched her eyes widen, the way she stretched forward—her left hand clamping down around her right wrist before she could grab it, stopping herself. She pushed herself back, further into the dark and the protection of the shadows. Giving her my apple suddenly didn't feel like enough.

She looked at me the same way Naga used to look at Yahiko. Distrust. Suspicion. Expecting a trap or a trick.

"I'm Oka," I chirped, giving her a poor mimicry of Konan's smile.

The girl glanced at the apple again. She crept forward, slowly, and then she snatched it and backed away, still staring at me as she stuffed it in her mouth.

"Oka?" Konan called, shuffling into the alley behind me. "You can't wander off like that—"

The girl tensed, cradling the apple closer to her chest, pieces of fruit stuck to her chin.

"'Is okay," I said. "That's just Konan." I half-turned, tilting my head when I saw that Konan was looking at the girl with wide eyes.

"I didn't sense him at all," she whispered.

I made a thoughtful noise, but I didn't know why it bothered her. The girl stiffened at 'him'.

I watched her lick her fingers clean and I thought of Yahiko. Of him deciding that my brother and I had a place in his quest for peace. He could've given us enough to eat and kicked us out, but he didn't. He let us stay. He brought us out of the rain.

I grabbed the girl's wrist.

She yelped, jerking back, but I didn't let go. She was only a little shorter than me.

Konan took a step forward. "Oka, let him go," she said sternly. "It's rude to grab people like that—"

"She's coming," I decided.

"She...?" Konan blinked. " _What_?"

I pulled the girl up, but she resisted. "Jus' leave me alone," she hissed. "What d'ya want me for?"

I paused, looking into her blue eyes. "I want to feed you."

The girl's eyes widened. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Taking that as understanding, I dragged her forward.

"We can't just take _anyone_ back," Konan protested.

"This isn't anyone," I said back. "This is..." I trailed off.

"Kota," the girl mumbled, with something that was almost wonder.

"This is Kota," I said firmly, pulling her past Konan.

"We can leave her food, but we can't bring her."

Kota dug her heels in the dirt once we were out of the alley, and I followed her gaze up to Osamu, who hovered nearby. She looked abruptly afraid.

"That's Osamu," I dismissed.

"Who is this?" Osamu asked, blinking down at us.

"A stray," I answered, looking at Konan.

Konan's cheeks tinted red. She looked away and let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 絆 - Bonds
> 
> Character development is neat.  
> Kota joins the fight! 98% chance her canon name wasn't Kota. Meh. But she is an Original Akatsuki member.


	19. A Girl Named Kota - Part 2

"I'm a shapeshifter.

What else should I be?

Please don't take off my mask,

Revealing dark."

-Beneath the Mask, Persona 5

* * *

Naga carefully lowered a handful of small, square planks of wood on the table. Next, he pulled two folded slips of Konan's paper from his pocket. One was covered in half-dry red paint, the other in silver baby slime.

I pulled a plank closer, running a finger over the grooves. "What's this for?"

Naga hesitated. "Don't you want to draw something for Osamu? Kota?"

Did I?

I looked at the paint, the silver slowly dribbling off the paper and down the table. The planks were all around the size of Mamoru's plank outside, but slightly off. The wood was either too dark, too light, or too rough.

I wanted to practice Headhunter more. I wanted to play with Kota. I _didn't_ want to sit around and draw. I shook my head, "No thanks, but you can draw if you want."

Naga stared at me. Then he smiled softly, a little sad. He knelt and unwrapped the scarf around his neck. I leaned forward so he could loop it around mine.

"You're really growing up, Oka," he said, patting my head.

"I—" _I was always grown._ It was supposed to come out as a grumble, accompanied by a half-hearted pout and maybe a glare if he laughed, but...

But it wasn't true, was it?

I was a little kid when Tsunade left. I was _still_ a little kid when I thought I could fight Usagi on my own. I didn't feel much like a 'little kid' anymore. I was faster than before, stronger, and I knew better.

I let Naga pat my head for three seconds, and then I growled softly in warning.

He retracted his hand, shaking his head. "Wolf," he murmured.

"So, you still can't sense Kota?" Yahiko asked. He crouched in the middle of the room, rubbing his chin and squinting at Kota, who sat in a corner with her legs tucked up, staring at the floor. Her nose was red, the only evidence it was broken after Naga healed it.

Konan paced in front of him. "I can't," she said. "And it's driving me crazy! I can _see_ she's there, but I don't _feel_ anything."

Yahiko nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you're broken?"

"I-I'm not!" she sputtered, stopping in place. "Nagato can't sense her either."

Yahiko turned, hand still on his chin. "Is this true?"

"It is," Naga confirmed, standing.

"Huh," Yahiko said. "Then it's a _real_ problem."

"It wasn't a real problem before?" Konan fumed.

Naga quietly walked to the kitchen (about two feet) and inspected the ingredients on the counter. Half a day-old fish, an only slightly dangerous piece of lettuce we found at the bottom of the merchant's sack, and a half-expired potato.

"You make up so many stories," Yahiko said lightly. "Who knows if anything you say is real anymore."

" _You're_ the one who exaggerates all the time," Konan protested.

Yahiko mock gasped. "Take that back."

Naga stabbed the lettuce with a kunai, stepped closer to Yahiko, and shook it off over him. It fluttered down and landed on his shoulder.

Yahiko looked at it and collapsed. "Get it off me," he wheezed.

"It could be chakra suppression," Naga suggested, making no move to help him.

"But _this much_?" Konan asked, looking doubtfully at Kota.

"I'm going to die of some _plague_ and none of my friends will care," Yahiko choked out.

Konan rolled her eyes. "Oh, you've eaten worse."

"Something on it moved!"

Seeing as no one would help him, I stood up, took Naga's kunai from him, and carefully maneuvered the lettuce onto the tip.

"You're my hero, Oka," Yahiko said.

Konan squinted at Naga. "Suppress your chakra more. As much as you can."

Naga smiled a little. "It wouldn't disappear. _This_ is as much as I can suppress it."

Konan blinked. " _That's_ you suppressing it as much as you can?"

"It is," Naga insisted.

Konan turned a flat stare onto Yahiko. "You're hopeless."

Yahiko waved his arm. "Wounding me while I'm down," he lamented.

The door opened and Mamoru-sensei ducked into the hideout. Namekuji peeked up from the back of his head, pressing against his hair.

"You're annoying," Mamoru grunted, taking off his shoes.

"Thank you," Namekuji said.

Yahiko rolled over. "Password?"

"Don't have one," Mamoru-sensei said idly, arranging his shoes neatly by the door.

"You're just in time, sensei," Konan chirped.

Mamoru paused, glancing at the door like he thought about going back out into the rain. Namekuji slithered down his back, his leg, and onto a clothing trail on the floor.

"Nagato and I can't sense Kota," Konan explained, unfazed. "We thought she might be suppressing her chakra, but we would still be able to sense her at least a little—"

"Not necessarily," Mamoru-sensei interrupted.

Naga returned to the kitchen, using a fresh kunai to cut the fish into pieces.

"You're thinking of Kota like you'd think of yourselves," Mamoru admonished. "But she's not you. Her total chakra pool is probably around low civilian level, if that. No one taught her to fight or defend herself. Being alone out there, she did the next best thing. She hid. Clearly it wasn't enough to hide physically, so she began to unconsciously hide her chakra until no one could find her."

Mamoru eyed Kota. "It's a survival mechanism. She doesn't even realize she's doing it. And she's been doing it for so long that trying to _undo_ it will only do more harm than good. Just leave her be. Being invisible to sensory-types gives her an advantage no one else here has."

Konan frowned. Kota turned her head further away. "So, we can't teach her anything?"

Mamoru sat heavily against the wall. "Taijutsu should be fine."

Konan paused. "Mamoru-sensei—" she began sweetly.

"No new genjutsu for a month," Mamoru cut her off.

I crouched, offering the lettuce-laden kunai to Namekuji. He swallowed it without hesitation.

"That's not a fair trade," she protested.

"Too bad," Mamoru-sensei said, stretching his legs. "Want me to take on another potential headache? I'll have to make time for her. _Your_ time."

Konan sagged. "Fine. But you have to teach me something _at least_ B-rank once we start again."

Mamoru sighed deeply.

"Where's Osamu?" I asked.

"Outside," Mamoru said wearily. "Keeping watch."

"Konan gets _another_ new genjutsu," Yahiko grumbled to Naga, leaning on the counter next to him. "And what do _I_ get?"

"A fire jutsu," Naga deadpanned as he herded cut potato slices and fish pieces into a pot.

Yahiko slowly shook his head, "You're supposed to say 'nothing'."

I walked closer to them. "Can I help?"

"Can _I_ help?" Yahiko asked.

"No, and no," Naga said, slightly amused. "We can have burned stew next time, Oka. And..." he trailed off, shooting Yahiko an apologetic look.

"I can burn stew just as well as she can," Yahiko protested.

"I expect Oka to burn the stew because she'll be learning," Naga said gently.

Yahiko's look was flat. "Why does everyone hurt me?"

"I don't," I chirped.

Yahiko glanced at me, then back at Naga. "Why does _almost_ everyone hurt me?" he amended.

Naga smiled, putting the pot on the counter. "Can you fill this with water?"

Yahiko looked at it. "Is that all I'm good for?"

I left them to it, pausing when I turned around. Kota was at the table. She was on her knees, hunched over a plank, elbows a barrier to prevent anyone from seeing what she was doing. But her thumbs were smeared red, and the paper with the silver goo tucked out of sight.

I smiled.

**スターレス**

"Get ready to be impressed—"

"Boo!" Konan shouted; hands cupped around her mouth.

She sat northeast of me, just barely under the protection of the cliff. Naga was on my left, legs crossed, leaning back against the rock wall. He was smiling softly. Kota was further back, legs tucked up, nearly hidden in the darkness of the mini cave.

Yahiko shot Konan a flat look. "Like I was saying before—"

"Boo!"

I stood, carefully brushed sand off my shorts, and tackled Konan.

She yelped as my arms went around her but was laughing as she fell.

I rearranged myself so I sat on her stomach and leaned down, letting her see the disapproval in my eyes.

She snorted and looked away, shoving a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to contain her giggles.

I would _not_ smile. I dug my knee into her side.

"Okay— _ow._ Okay, I'm done," Konan promised, grinning. She held her hands up in surrender, sand in her hair.

To ensure her silence, I twisted to face Yahiko and continued using her as a chair.

"I said I was done!" Konan protested.

I hummed in acknowledgement but didn't move.

"I had a whole speech prepared," Yahiko said thoughtfully. "And now it's ruined."

"You could still say it," Naga offered.

Yahiko tapped his chin. "Nah, the mood isn't right anymore."

"I bet he never had a speech," Konan whispered.

I grabbed a handful of sand and waved it menacingly at her.

Konan looked like she was trying not to laugh again.

"I'm scary," I said, voice low and intimidating.

Konan shoved both hands over her mouth and stared up, away from me, stifling a sound that was half-hiccup, half-snort.

Yahiko ignored us both. "I'll just show you," he said. He faced the pond, his back to us. He inhaled sharply and leapt straight up, using both hands as he sped through hand-signs. Rat. Dog. Tiger.

His chest puffed up. Half a second passed.

A small ball of fire shot from his mouth. It flew straight down, hissing and steaming in the rain. On impact with the pond it burst outward in every direction, growing bigger and brighter even as the rain fought to put it out.

Yellow light danced in my eyes as I watched it, awed by the flames licking at the sky. The heat of it chased away the cold, and for the first time since Shikkotsu, I felt a taste of warmth. Steam rose up in thick clouds, obscuring the fire.

Yahiko landed on the charred sand and stumbled back.

Naga was shading his eyes. Kota leaned forward, on her hands and knees, mouth hanging open. I watched the fire through the steam, watching it sizzle and finally shrink as it lost its battle against the rain.

When it was completely doused, the pond was several feet lower than it was before.

Naga clapped. Konan looked away, refusing to give Yahiko the satisfaction of seeing her impressed. But I did.

Yahiko sat heavily, breathing hard. Then he flopped back, lacing his hands behind his head. "Show's over," he announced. "I'm all outta chakra."

"Still have enough to keep talking," Konan chimed, wedging out from under me.

Yahiko closed his eyes. "I hope Namekuji eats _all_ your paper. Even the roses."

"Now _that's_ too far."

I crossed my legs, glancing at Naga. "Why _didn't_ Namekuji come?"

Naga's smile was fond as he watched them bicker, but it turned amused when he looked at me. "He said he didn't want to listen to them more than he had to," he explained. " _And_ Mamoru-sensei lets him take naps on his lap."

It sounded like a lie. I shook my head in denial.

"He _does_ ," Naga insisted. "Mamoru-sensei would never admit it, but Namekuji told me."

I still felt skeptical.

"Think about it. Mamoru-sensei spends all day in the rain. _Namekuji_ is choosing to spend all day in the rain when he could be here or at the hideout," Naga reasoned.

It was a good point. Namekuji complained all the time about being wet. "He could've slept in _my_ lap," I pointed out.

"Maybe," Naga agreed. "But you wake him up a lot by accident."

"Not _a lot_ ," I said, then paused. "I don't _mean_ to."

Konan left the cave and knelt beside Yahiko. "You know _exactly_ how much chakra you have. You didn't have to push yourself this far for us," she admonished, flicking his arm.

"I did," Yahiko murmured.

"You _didn't_ —"

"I was happy," Yahiko interrupted, eyes slowly opening. "I knew what it would do to me, but I wanted to show you guys because I mastered it, and I only did _that_ because I knew how much everyone believed in me." His eyes slid to hers. "Is that so bad?"

Konan's breath caught. I could see the red tinting her cheeks from here.

"Someone's got a crush," Naga said quietly.

Konan pressed a hand against his forehead and Yahiko blinked at her.

"You could have a fever," she said quickly, before he could speak. "Chakra exhaustion isn't _usually_ bad enough to make someone sick, but it's you, so I should check. Just in case."

Yahiko stared up at her. Instead of responding, his smile grew, and he closed his eyes again.

**空**

When Mamoru-sensei and Osamu came back, they brought a man with them.

He hobbled between them, half-hunched over, a hand clutching his own throat. His other hand curled around the hilt of a sword with a long, red handle.

I watched Osamu sneak worried glances at him through the window, a hand half-outstretched, whether to help him walk or to catch him if he fell, I didn't know.

Naga stood suddenly, abandoning the card game he was playing with Yahiko. A quarter of the deck was missing, another quarter faded and smeared by water-damage.

Before I could do more than blink at him, he'd already opened the door and stepped out.

Konan watched him, sitting on a counter, and then dispersed into paper butterflies.

Yahiko dropped the three cards in his hand onto a pile in front of him, grinning. "It's about time."

I looked back out the window, watching Naga tie his hair back.

The man was proof that our first mission was a success.

Yahiko's voice was deeper than before, but only sometimes. Konan never missed the chance to tease him when it cracked.

Kota knelt at the table, blowing on a cup of boiled water. She didn't look up. It wasn't tea or had anything in it, but I knew it being warm was enough.

I walked to the door and stepped out, barefoot. I mostly fit into the shirt Mamoru-sensei gave me. It was still a little big though.

Naga stopped, and I saw that the man's eyes were narrowed, his grip tight around his weapon. Each breath he took sounded like it rattled around in his chest before coming out.

Mamoru-sensei was looking at him with cool eyes, but I didn't miss the kunai in his hand.

The man's eyes darted up, and I knew without turning that Konan was on the roof.

"This is Nagato, our medic-nin," Osamu introduced, oblivious to the tension in the air. "He can try and heal you, if you let him."

The man tried to speak, but only dry, croaking sounds came out.

Naga smiled. He held up his hands, and they glowed a soft green.

The man's eyes widened.

"You came all this way, so I'll do my best to help," Naga told him.

He looked at my brother's hands like they were otherworldly. He made a wet, wheezing sound, then dropped the sword in the dirt, making a strange gesture with his hands.

Naga knelt. "I need you to lie down so I can see what's wrong."

The man obeyed, stumbling forward, dropping to the ground in front of him. He laid back in the rain and mud without hesitation. His hand fell away from his neck.

A ring of puffy, swollen scar tissue circled it, yellow and bruised. Naga gently prodded the area, muttering. He looked up, a wordless ask for help, and Namekuji slithered off Mamoru-sensei's back and down his front.

"What's wrong with him?" Osamu asked, hovering, unsure of what to do or how to help.

"An old wound that never healed properly," Naga murmured distractedly. "A growth formed on the inside, and it's infected."

I crouched opposite of Naga as Namekuji crawled onto the man's stomach, who stiffened, making odd hand-signs at Mamoru-sensei.

"The slug will numb the area," Mamoru answered. His hand was in his pocket and the kunai was gone. "It'll help with the pain, but not by much."

"How long will it take?" Osamu asked.

Naga didn't answer, but Namekuji looked up. "Why don't you go and see if Kota needs training in... something?" he suggested. "Or the orange-haired one."

Osamu, hurt but taking the hint, backed off.

I watched him go. "He doesn't know better," I told Namekuji.

"Well, now he does."

"You'll have to numb as I cut," Naga murmured. "It's partially blocking his airway, so if you numb the entire area now, he might stop breathing."

Namekuji shifted closer to his neck, ignoring the wariness in the man's eyes.

Naga prodded the mass again. "I'll have to drain it first."

"The human body is disgusting," Namekuji noted, following Naga's fingers.

Naga smiled a little but didn't respond. "Ready?"

"No, but you're going to do it anyway."

.

.

.

Later, Yahiko gently shook me awake.

He smiled when I blinked up at him. "I can't believe our sweet Konan left you out here," he admonished, shaking his head.

I pushed myself up, noticing the empty spot next to me where Naga, Namekuji, and the man were. Only bloody puddles were left. "Where did—"

"Mamoru-sensei took Nagato inside," he explained, leaning back. "Konan's looking after him. He could barely keep his eyes open when I came out. Namekuji went to sleep on the table. We tried to stop him but—" he scratched the back of his head, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. "—he's Namekuji."

"Joji's inside too. He passed out right after you fell asleep," Yahiko added.

He was talking to me, but he wasn't _looking_ at me. I twisted, following his gaze to the sword, abandoned in the grass. There was a fire in his eyes.

It was the same fire that convinced Jiraiya to teach us, Mamoru-sensei to believe in us.

I knew, without a doubt, that Joji would teach him to use it.

That fire would conquer the world one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> スターレス - Starless, 空 - Sky
> 
> I adore Yahiko, but I also hate him. He's always the hardest to write.


	20. The Grey-Eyed Boy - Part 1

"Woken by my tears I watch the rising sun,

Feel my fear arise in my tainted heart,

"'It's alright,' you whisper yet I still could see it wasn't true,

Have you been crying too?"

-Magnet, Lollia feat. Lizz Robinett

* * *

Gripping the wall for support, I leaned down and peered into a dark hole. I barely saw the shine of transparent fish eggs sticking to the surface.

My chest burned with the need for air. I watched them for another second before pushing away. I swam up, pumping my arms until I broke the surface gasping. I rubbed water out of my eyes.

I lost count of how long I was under after a little over six minutes.

Kota sat at the edge of the bank. Her lower legs were in the water, pants uselessly rolled up. She didn't look up, staring at the silver-green fish circling her feet.

I ran my fingers along the side of a big one as it passed. It didn't twitch.

"Why're you nice to me?" Kota asked, narrowing her eyes at the water. "Why're any of you _?_ It—" Her fingers curled against her knees. "—It's not _normal._ "

_Normal._

Normal was eating rats and ants to live. It was a merchant being surprised that people could be kind. It was my brother, killing to protect himself.

"I already said why," I told her with a bright smile. "I want to feed—"

"No!" Kota shouted, pulling her feet up. She stared at her knees. "You _did._ You still do. You gave me _your_ clothes. Why? What d'ya want? _Ever'one_ wants somethin',"

I swam to the bank, pulled myself up out of the water, and sat next to her. "I don't," I said quietly.

Kota turned her face away. "Then your friends?" Her hands were looped tightly around her legs, fighting to hide her trembling.

My smile slipped away. "No one wants anything from you, Kota."

She tore up handfuls of grass and chucked them in the water. "Why're you tryin' so bad to trick me?"

"I'm _not_ ," I insisted. "We only want peace—"

"Stuff it," Kota hissed. "Think they haven' told me that? Over and over and _over._ Do you know how ta' think for yourself? Bet _they_ told you to come 'an play with me."

I looked to my reflection for guidance, as if mirror-me would offer the answer on what to say to Kota. I could hear how afraid she was. Too afraid to trust, to let her guard down.

What did Naga say before?

_Tell me I'm making you sad and I'll understand._

Could that work on other people too?

I laid back on the grass. "I want to see the sun," I told her, lifting a hand to the sky, as if I could grasp it if I could just reach beyond the gray clouds. "Naga took me to a forest full of slugs once, and it was _so warm_ , but I still couldn't see the sun. I know what it looks like, 'cause of Yahiko, but that's just a drawing. It's not _the sun_."

I dropped my hand. "It's brighter than fire, big, and hot. But it doesn't burn, and it doesn't hurt. I want to know what it's like to be hot," I breathed. "I want to stop the rain, 'cause I'm tired of being cold and wet all the time."

"And I want to see the sun here first," I added. "But all the rain and clouds are in the way." I turned, faltering when I saw that Kota was looking up, eyes glowing, imagining my rendition of the sun. "That's why..." I trailed off, but I was out of words.

Kota looked at me that same way Mamoru-sensei looked at Yahiko, the first time he told him he wanted to be a god.

But I didn't give a speech. I only said what I felt.

I sat up and felt embarrassed. I looked away. "That's why," I said again.

Kota didn't respond. I counted to twenty-three before I heard shuffling, and then the soft splash of her putting her feet back in the water. "Your sensei—he's teachin' me to fight. He said so before but..." she trailed off. "What if I don' wanna learn?"

My brows furrowed. "Why not?" I asked. "You've already been fighting this whole time. It's different than fighting to live, but not really."

Kota's eyes went wide.

"And," I said, stretching out the word. "You need to be strong to help us stop the rain."

Kota jerked her head away and scooted forward, back to me, furiously wiping at her eyes. "I'll only do it if I get to see the sun too."

"Deal."

**リーチ**

I stood just outside the hideout, arms wrapped around Namekuji, watching Kota train with Osamu and Konan.

Osamu absorbed a punch to his middle. "Stand like this," he instructed, planting his feet. "Throw all your weight into the punch, not just your arm."

"Haa!" Kota threw herself forward—and missed. Her punch went wide, passing Osamu entirely. She stumbled to the side, throwing her hands out to catch herself when she almost fell. Her pupils were small and hazy.

Behind her, Konan smiled, making the Rat seal. It was practice for her too. "You stopped paying attention to me to focus on Osamu," she teased. "But I used a simple one this time."

Breathing hard, Kota cocked her head towards Konan but didn't move.

Osamu took a purposeful step back, feet squishing loudly in the mud.

Kota turned and swung her fist without lifting her head, knuckles glancing off Osamu's hip.

Konan clapped. "You're getting better."

Kota blinked a few times and shook her head hard.

I smiled and turned away.

"I'm hungry," Namekuji said.

"You can have my chakra," I offered, walking under the roof to the opposite corner of the hideout.

Mamoru-sensei stood out of the rain, leaning back against the wall, supervising Yahiko and Joji.

They stood feet away from each other, wielding large, skinny branches they called practice swords.

Namekuji made a disgruntled noise.

"You don't like my chakra?" I asked as I sat, lowering him into my lap.

"It's smelly, like you."

I poked his side, hard enough that my finger dented his body. I knew he didn't like it, because he started squirming.

"You and your _hands_ ," Namekuji said venomously, but didn't leave my lap. "You're not a sensor," he explained heatedly.

I removed my finger, wiping slime off on the grass. "So?"

"I _like_ being able to sense things."

I hummed. "Why don't you eat Konan's chakra then?"

"It's _different_ ," he stressed. "I don't _care_ what type of chakra any of you have."

"But you'd still be able to sense," I pointed out.

"Barely," Namekuji scoffed. "Her range is small. Tiny. Puny—"

I poked his side again and he made angry noises at me.

"You do that, but it's true," Namekuji grumbled. "I bet she can't even sense the one-armed man from over there—"

I poked him harder.

Mamoru-sensei glanced over in mild interest.

Yahiko raised the practice sword over his head and charged, yelling a battle cry.

Joji held his diagonally in front of him. He waited until Yahiko was close, then spun around an attack, whacking the hilt hard between Yahiko's shoulders.

Yahiko fell and groaned, sword tumbling away.

Joji signed something at Mamoru. Jagged scars crisscrossed his neck and disappeared down the front of his black shirt. There were smaller ones too, pale pink instead of white and neater, from the cuts Naga made.

"You're holding it like a club and not a sword," Mamoru-sensei translated begrudgingly. "You have to treat it like an extension of your body, not something separate from it."

Yahiko pushed himself up. He was panting, knuckles bruised. He spat mud, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Understood, sensei."

Joji stared at him with sharp, critical eyes as he stumbled over and picked up his sword.

Yahiko mimicked the way Joji held his and lowered his stance, closer to the one he used for taijutsu.

Joji looked at him, then signed again.

"Your feet are still too far apart," Mamoru-sensei said.

Yahiko adjusted. He ran at Joji, swinging the sword at his neck.

Before he could connect, Joji's fist was deep in his side. Yahiko made a strangled sound and crumpled, coughing. Joji looked at him for a second, then lowered his sword. With his other hand, he signed at Mamoru.

"That's enough for today."

Yahiko shook his head. He got his feet under him and stood. "Not yet," he rasped, raising his sword.

Joji didn't move. He made a gesture at Mamoru.

"You've taken enough of a beating," he translated. "Are you that eager for more?"

Mud dyed Yahiko's hair a murky brown. Splotches of it stained his clothes. Still, he grinned. "No," he breathed. "But I'm not done," he charged again, swinging his sword in a sideways strike.

Joji batted it away and twisted, digging the point hard into Yahiko's stomach.

Yahiko dropped to his hands and knees, wheezing, clutching his middle.

I traced the stripes on Namekuji's back. He was asleep.

Joji eyes narrowed. He signed with more agitation at Mamoru.

"I'm telling you to rest for your own good," Mamoru-sensei translated blandly. "If you're going to be stubborn about this, then I'm wasting my time."

And I smiled, because it was the wrong thing to say to Yahiko.

Yahiko grabbed his weapon and got up. He wobbled, but didn't fall, the tip of his sword dragging in the mud. He took a deep breath, and then he swung at his sword at Joji again.

Joji brought the hilt down on Yahiko's back, and he dropped with a _thud._ Joji's eyes were slits as he signed again.

"Are you so afraid of failure?"

Yahiko laughed. He was still laughing as he struggled onto his knees. "No, sensei," he panted. He wedged a foot in the mud, pushed against his knee, and made himself stand. "I can fail, but I'll be on my feet when I do."

Joji stared at him. He shook his head, threw down his sword, and walked away. He made a rapid sign at Mamoru as he went, but he didn't translate.

"What did he say?" I asked.

Mamoru-sensei followed Joji's retreat, then closed his eyes. "Let's just say he isn't happy with Yahiko and leave it at that."

**把握**

Naga ducked, barely avoiding Yahiko's punch.

"Who do you think'll win?" Konan asked, on my left, leaning close to me and Kota.

Naga, coiled like a spring, launched himself at Yahiko. He threw his weight against Yahiko, fingers digging into the back of his shirt, trying to push him over.

Yahiko slid back a few feet but didn't fall.

Kota looked up from the stick figures she was drawing in the sand. "Yahiko," she decided, then drew a circle around the stick people.

I thought that too, but I felt obligated to root for my brother. "Naga," I said.

Yahiko lifted both hands above his head, fingers together, and brought it down. Just before his fist could connect with Naga's back, he vanished.

I leaned forward, eyes wide. He was behind Yahiko the next second, pond water splashing up around him as he landed. His eyes were gold. A dark blue line curled beneath each eye, and a stripe of the same color ran down the top of his nose.

"Is that _Sage Mode_?" Konan asked, gaping.

Naga kicked off the water as Yahiko spun, swinging his fist. I watched Yahiko's eyes widen half a second before his head snapped to the side, Naga's fist colliding with his jaw.

Yahiko flew back. He flipped in mid-air and landed on his feet at the edge of the pond, chakra flaring around his soles to root him in place.

Naga looked at him, then stared down at his hand in surprise. The marks on his face faded.

Despite the bruising part of his jaw, Yahiko stroked his chin. "The grab was a distraction," he noted.

"It was," Naga hesitated. "But I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Yahiko nodded. "You cheated."

Naga lowered his hand. His knuckles were red. "I didn't use ninjutsu or shurikenjutsu."

Yahiko looked at the sky, considering this. "If only I had my practice sword," he mused. He pointed at Naga. "More importantly, you know what this means, don't you?"

"No—?"

" _Other_ than you betraying my trust and walking all over my good nature," Yahiko added.

"It was only a partial transformation," Naga defended.

"That's what they all say."

Naga wiped away a smile. "I won't do it again," he promised.

Yahiko crossed his arms. "You should."

Naga blinked. He shook his head, "I only did it to see how fast I could take in nature energy," he protested. "I hit you that hard _by accident._ If I use it again, I could hurt really you. I won't use it until I train more."

Yahiko turned to us. "Should I feel offended that he thinks I need a handicap?"

"Yes!" Konan shouted.

"You don't count. I was asking Oka and Kota."

"I hope Nagato wins," she responded sweetly.

Naga sat on the water, watching with polite curiosity.

"What's a handicap?" I whispered to Konan.

Konan leaned close, nodding, "Oka says yes too!" she called to him.

Yahiko blinked. He turned his back to us, disregarding the vote.

Kota, tongue sticking out, never looked up.

"It's not a handicap for you," Naga tried. "It's for me."

"You say that," Yahiko drawled. "But it _sounds_ like you're putting a handicap on yourself because you don't think I can win otherwise."

Naga opened his mouth, but Konan spoke first, "'Course he has to handicap himself," she said. "If he didn't, you'd sulk and whine about losing all day."

Yahiko slowly turned around. He stared at her, then made a half-seal.

"Oh, you _wouldn't_."

Yahiko's mouth expanded with water. With a blank stare he spat a medium-sized water bullet at her, and by extension, us.

"You _dick_ —" she burst into butterflies.

Kota looked up and gasped, scrambling back.

I sighed, deep and heavy like Mamoru-sensei.

_Tiger. Hare. Boar. Dog._

I slammed my hands to the ground, bending the earth to my will until a solid, sturdy wall shot up in front of me, blocking the water bullet.

Kota yelped at the crash, throwing her hands up to defend herself as we were sprinkled with chakra-water. She was shivering, eyes squeezed shut.

I leaned back. "Yahiko wouldn't have done that if he thought, even a little, that it would hurt you," I told her, patting the wall. "He knew I would protect you."

When she didn't move, I reached back, took a firm hold of her hands, and slowly brought them down. Her eyes snapped open. "You're okay. Promise," I said.

Kota looked at the wall. She slowly relaxed, hands clenching in her lap.

I shook my head. "You should tell him not to do that again. He didn't know it would scare you."

Kota ducked her head. Konan had combed the knots out of her hair, and now it was all shaggy curls. "He wouldn' listen," she said quietly. "Not to me—"

I tilted her chin up and she looked at me in shock. She reminded me too much of how Naga used to be. "You're one of us," I said firmly. "If you're scared, he'll listen. If you're angry, he'll listen. You just have to say so."

I let go and smiled, "And if he doesn't, I'll _make him_ listen, 'cause you're my friend."

Kota's eyes went wide and watery. "Jus' shut up," she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. "You're always sayin' dumb stuff. I'm done listenin'."

I hummed. "Did the plank you made for Joji dry yet?"

Kota crossed her arms. "How am I suppose' to know?"

I stood. "Want to go hang it up?"

Kota huffed, but didn't say no.

I saw a shadow above me. Looking up, I saw Konan sitting on top of my wall. She swung her feet, watching us, her smile warm.

**検索**

"I always wanted hair this long," Konan said wistfully.

I felt her fingers working through tangles, gathering loose strands, twisting the whole thing into one big braid.

"I tried growing mine out for _ages_ ," she continued, tilting my head forward. "But I could never get it any longer than this."

I absently drew Joji's sword on the floor, making the handle extra-long. I tried not to move. If Konan lost her grip or messed up she'd have to start all over. It had been so long already.

"Even Kota's hair is longer than mine now," Konan said, shaking her head. "It's so unfair."

"Yahiko doesn't have long hair," I pointed out.

"He's incompetent," Konan dismissed. "He barely counts in most things, and _definitely_ not this."

"Maybe he likes short hair more."

Konan sighed deeply. "Say he _does_ count. That's only one."

"Naga's hair isn't that long."

"Longer than mine."

I glanced at the loose strands of hair on the floor. "Mamoru-sensei—"

"Doesn't count," Konan cut me off.

"Why not?"

"He just doesn't. He's an adult."

I thought about telling her that she sounded a lot like Yahiko when he didn't have a good answer to a question. Reconsidered when I remembered that her fingers were in my hair.

"Osamu—"

"Is _bald_ ," Konan stressed.

"Joji—"

"Nope."

"Namekuji—"

"He's a _slug_ ," she said, twisting the end of the braid.

"He has hair."

Konan stopped. "No, he doesn't."

"He does, and it's long," I told her. "Have you checked?"

"He has slime _all over_ his body," Konan emphasized, lifting the braid to brush hair off my back. "Where would I _check_?"

"Under the slime."

Konan shook her head. " _No_. And, even if he does, unless you're talking about a different mean-spirited slug that sometimes spits acid, there's no way he'd let you check."

"He likes me."

"He's spiteful," Konan countered. "And the only way he knows how to show he cares is to insult everyone around him."

"He stopped eating your paper," I weakly protested.

" _Sometimes_ ," Konan scoffed, standing. "He _sometimes_ doesn't eat my paper. And it's _always_ the ones I already folded and _never_ all the other paper lying around."

"He likes the taste of your chakra?"

Konan snorted. " _All_ my paper has my chakra on it, folded or not."

She crouched and reached behind the sink, pulling out a rolled up black cloth. She unfolded it, and it looked like one half of a pant leg. "Okay, now we're going to have a quick Adult Talk. You're growing up. Your body is changing in strange ways, but it's _okay._ It's perfectly normal—"

 _"Stop_ ," I interrupted, abruptly self-conscious.

"Some of those changes may be more _obvious_ —" she looked pointedly at my chest and I faced the other way, drawing my legs up like a barrier. "—than others. Which is why," she began, holding up the pant leg. "From now on, you need to start wearing this around _that_ area."

I bared my teeth at her and Konan carefully shifted in front of the bathroom door, blocking my escape.

"Trust me, Oka, training is _way_ easier when you don't have to worry about anything falling out—"

I lunged. I snatched the cloth, ripping at it with my teeth and hands until it was in tattered pieces at my feet.

Konan looked at the mess I'd made, then calmly went back to the sink and pulled out the other, crumpled pant leg. "This is the only other one I have, so if you do that again I can't promise I won't use genjutsu to keep you still."

"I don't need—"

"I get it," Konan said, shaking her head. "I _really_ do. Getting taller is one thing but this—it's awkward and it makes you feel like you're all alone, _especially_ when no one else is going through it. I wanted to ignore it and pretend like nothing changed too, but I couldn't."

Her smile was soft. "There was no one to tell me what to do or what I should use to wrap my chest. It was... _hard._ " She stopped and for the briefest of instants I saw the Konan that she hid behind all her smiles. The hurt she rarely showed, the unhappiness. Then she was smiling again, bright and dim at once. "That's part of why we're here. You're more stubborn than Yahiko sometimes, but I know you need help with this, because I needed it too. So, you can fight me all you want, but you're not leaving until I show you how to put this on."

I stared at her, and then I pushed myself up.

"Think of this as practice for when you help me with Kota—"

I hugged her tight. "You don't have to smile all the time," I murmured.

Konan's breath hitched. She didn't speak for a few seconds. "If there was _one thing_ I wish Tsunade taught me about before she left..." she trailed off.

I squeezed and Konan let out a watery little laugh.

"Sorry," I said, gesturing to the fragments on the floor.

Konan put her hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back. She wiped her eyes. "I didn't expect anything else from our half-civilized wild animal," she said, holding up the remaining pant leg. "That hug means you won't bite when I show you how to tie it properly _, right_?"

I sniffed and didn't answer.

"Fine," she said, smile friendly and terrifying at once. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

**ホールド**

I tilted my head back, staring up at the empty space where Hanzo's tower used to be. Rain dripped from my chin, tracing never-ending lines down my forehead, cheeks, the curve of my nose.

Sometimes, it felt like nothing changed at all.

The tower fell a long time ago. Only a big pile of rubble marked where it used to be. What remained was the useless stuff; rusting support beams, cracked bits of wall or floor, a hole in the ground that led down to nowhere.

I never looked at it much before, but the sky was too empty with it gone. Another thing the war wouldn't let us keep. I let go of Kota's hand.

I felt her questioning eyes on my back as I stepped onto the pile, rocks and concrete digging into my heels. I watched for glass, or sharp pieces of bones, moving carefully as I maneuvered my way to the top.

Maybe I didn't like the bastard Hanzo, but the tower had been bigger than him. Bigger than all of us. It was the second-to-last standing tower in Amegakure. There was only one left, but it was small, just barely a tower.

To the north were wisps of black smoke, what was left of a fire that was put out. If I went that way I knew I would find a battlefield. Faceless bodies wearing red, white and green, staring at me with dull eyes. The sticky feeling of old blood on my fingers.

I looked at my hand, but it was clean. I could almost feel the ghost of a hand circling my wrist, the words that came from him, even as he choked on his own blood.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember what he said.

I dropped my hand, looking over the village again. I thought of the princess from the sea that ran away to a village of steel and skyscrapers, but all I saw in front of me was decay and death.

Men and women with bony limbs and dirty clothes huddled together under tarps, broken buildings, or held up crates, desperate for refuge from the rain. A few stared at me with eyes that reminded me of the silver-green fish, but I ignored them. An old man scraped at the mud with gnarled, bloodied fingers, searching for worms to eat.

"Hey, miss!" a voice called.

I looked down and Kota took half a step back as a black-haired boy approached her. He barely reached her stomach, caked in a thick layer of mud. His hands were cupped around something, and he thrust it towards her.

"I wan'ta give this to ya'," the boy said firmly.

Kota eyed it. "What d'ya want for it?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed. "Matsu—" he jerked his chin to another orphan behind him, around Yahiko's age or older, with short sandy blond hair. "—he tol' me you's with the ones who came an' lef' us fish yes'er'day. I don' 'ave money, but some of the mean ol' pe'ple gave you's stuff in big bags. I wan'ed ta do it too, but 'is all I got."

Kota stared at him, eyes slowly going wide.

The boy frowned, looking between his cupped hands and her. His eyes skittered away. "Nevermin'," he mumbled, turning away.

"Wait!" Kota grabbed his shoulder, only to immediately retract her hand when he tensed. "I just—" she huffed. "—you caught me off guard. Doesn' mean you should _leave._ "

More eyes were on us than before. Orphans appearing from alleys and shadows to watch. Adults drawn by the commotion. I nonchalantly put a hand in my pocket, where a kunai was waiting, just in case.

The boy looked up at her, a tentative thread of hope in his eyes.

"I needed a second, okay?" Kota said. "But I want it."

A slow smile spread across his face. He still had baby teeth. He held his hands out to her, stretching on his tip-toes.

Kota plucked the prize from him. It was a necklace of woven thread and twine, fraying and falling apart in the rain. She looked at it for a moment, then carefully worked it over her head, adjusting it around her neck.

"I'll get somethin' bet'er for when I see ya' again," the boy said in delight. He beamed and ran back to Matsu, bouncing on his feet.

"Thank you," Kota whispered, barely audible.

There wasn't enough room in the hideout for every hungry person in Amegakure, so this was the best we could do.

Matsu stared at me. I stared back.

His eyes were the same gray as the sky at dusk. Starvation hollowed out his cheeks and made his clothes hang on him. He dipped his head in acknowledgement, then his eyes shifted to the right, behind me.

I spun, yanking the kunai from its hiding place and twisting it in the same motion so the point faced away from me, but there was no one there. I barely caught a glimpse of the shinobi in violet perched one level above me before they disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> リーチ - Reach, 把握 - Grasp, 検索 - Search, ホールド - Hold
> 
> I hope you all love Kota as much as I do.  
> Oka says the sun the same way Armin from the AOT dub says the sea.
> 
> Yahiko - 13-14  
> Nagato/Konan - 12-13  
> Oka - 9-10  
> Kota - 8- 9


	21. A Girl Named Kota - Part 3

"Eyes getting wet,

Don't be upset,

But my heart really wants to cry.

Don't go away yet."

-Ikanaide, JubyPhonic

* * *

I held a cloak up in front of me.

It was long and black, with a red line circling the collar and running down the middle. On the floor next to me was a piece that came with it, an armored pouch that was supposed to be tied around my stomach.

The outside felt rubbery and rough, made to resist the rain and hard to cut through. The inside was a soft gray.

I stared at the cloak, turning it back and forth, searching.

It was missing something, but I didn't know what.

Konan, standing closer to the door and Yahiko, eyed her own cloak skeptically. "Who did you rob for these and how fast will they be here?"

Yahiko, grinning, was already wearing his. "Your lack of faith cuts deep," he answered, but he was too happy to pretend he was upset.

"When they show up," Konan began. "I won't stop them from taking you."

Kota had shrugged hers on the moment after Yahiko handed it to her. She stood in front of the painting of the sun, fingers gently tracing shapes on the weathered paper.

Yahiko looked thoughtful. "How did I live with you for so long before Nagato and Oka?"

"I didn't live with _you_ ," Konan corrected. " _You_ lived with _me_."

"That doesn't answer the question," Yahiko noted.

"It was a fair trade," Mamoru-sensei interrupted, and Konan stared at him.

"You _helped_ him?" she asked.

Mamoru-sensei, sitting at the table, quietly sipped his tea and didn't answer.

Naga, across from him, tugged thoughtfully at the baggy sleeves of his own cloak. A lukewarm cup was in front of him.

"Maybe we should think about making Konan our backup. She's not so good with people..."

Konan spun towards Yahiko. "I'm fine with people. But _you're_ not people. You're... you!"

"'You're you'," Yahiko repeated. "I should frame that."

"What _did_ you do?" Osamu asked, looking at his cloak in bewilderment. "This material is expensive, especially now."

Yahiko's grinned, lacing his hands behind his head. "Let's just say that we shouldn't fish in the lake any time soon," he drawled. "It'll take a while for them to repopulate."

Konan's eyes widened. "How much fish did you trade?"

"Some secrets should stay secrets," he said airily.

Konan dropped down next to the table. "How much fish did he trade?" she asked Mamoru.

Mamoru-sensei took another long sip before he said, "Around sixty."

Konan pressed both hands on the table. "Isn't that _all the adult fish?_ "

"Most," Mamoru agreed.

"I almost forgot what the bottom of the lake looked like," Yahiko said wistfully.

Joji, sitting in the space between the hallway and the main room, held his sword in his lap, polishing it with an old shirt. His own cloak was folded next to him.

Osamu's brows furrowed. "How much per cloak?"

"Five for Oka's. Four-and-a half for Kota. Seven-and-a half for Konan. Eight for me and Nagato," Yahiko paused, stroking his chin. "If only you knew how long it took to find someone willing to hear me out."

"Never mind that," Konan dismissed, turning to Naga. "How much fish do we have left?"

Naga peeked up from inspecting the inside of his cloak. "Enough for today and tomorrow."

Konan nodded, pushing away from the table. "I'm going to go set some traps."

"Since when do you know how to build traps?" Yahiko asked.

"Now," she said, stalking outside.

Mamoru-sensei sighed deeply, drank the last of his tea, and stood. "You're all ridiculously bullheaded," he announced, then followed Konan.

"I think he really likes us," Yahiko mused once he was gone.

I looked at my cloak again, crumpled and forgotten in my lap. "I know you," I murmured, as if it could hear me.

"What's our name?" it was Kota who asked, facing us.

Yahiko paused, hand frozen on his chin.

She pointed at the door. "The people out there jus' call us 'them' or 'you' or 'Hanzo's kids', but we—we're not with them," she said. "Hanzo's people—it's _their_ fault there are so many people on the street."

I pulled the cloak on, stretching my arms through the sleeves. It was a little small, but that was okay. "It's 'cause of the war, Kota," I said. I blamed Hanzo the bastard for Mamoru-sensei's arm, for Osamu's eye, and for not stopping Root and Danzo, but I didn't blame him for this.

"You're wrong," Kota said, eyes bright. She took a step towards me. "You say that, but the shinobi are fed right so they can fight. The war's been goin' on my whole life, but I've never, _ever_ seen a shinobi go hungry. They leave and don't come back, sure, but they go with food and rations while the rest of us starve. _That's not the war_."

When I tried to conjure the image of a starving shinobi—swearing, _swearing_ I saw one—I came up blank. I couldn't think of a single person I saw with shinobi attire or scars that lived on the street.

 _She's right_ , I realized.

Why did anyone fight to protect Amegakure when all the people living inside would've starved to death when they came back?

I suddenly didn't understand anything about shinobi.

_Why, why, why._

"We're _not_ like that," Kota said firmly, catching her breath. "We feed the _people,_ not those stupid shinobi. So, we need a name."

"They're not stupid," I said.

Kota bunched the cloak up in her fists. "This is _their_ war. We starve 'cause of _them_. Everything that ever went wrong in this big, dumb world—"

"We're shinobi," I said thoughtfully, and Kota's words caught in her throat. "We're not Hanzo the Bastard's shinobi—"

Osamu choked.

"—but we're shinobi too. I don't think they're stupid, 'cause it's not their fault. They don't decide where food goes, and they don't decide where they go for a mission." I paused. "I don't think they know what they're fighting for anymore."

"Hanzo the Bastard is a _shinobi_ too," Kota hissed.

"He is," I agreed. "But there are bad civilians too. The people who broke your nose—were they shinobi?"

Kota went very still.

I didn't think so.

"It must be really tough to be the leader of a place like this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone who isn't me," Yahiko mused, and we both turned. His hands were behind his head, eyes on the roof. "I think you're both right. There's not enough for everyone, so most of it go to the shinobi because without them Amegakure would've been destroyed a long time ago and none of us would've been born."

"The problem," Yahiko began. "Is that Hanzo doesn't realize that the Amegakure he's trying to protect is already dead. We need shinobi, but we need the civilians too. The people that are starving and miserable—they're not loyal to this crybaby village anymore. They only stay because there isn't anywhere else to go. What's a village without loyalty? Right now, Amegakure _isn't_ a village. It's two groups of people suffering together. The shinobi fight a war without end, die for nothing, and come back to nothing. It's why if they don't die, they defect."

Joji made a poor attempt at a sound that was supposed to be clearing his throat to get our attention, and I caught a few of the signs as he spoke with his hands.

_"What—you—about it?"_

Kota frowned. "What did he say?"

"What would you do about it?" Osamu provided, but he was looking at Yahiko.

Yahiko's gaze returned to the roof. "I'd share it with everyone. It'd make things harder for shinobi, but I think Amegakure would start feeling like a village again. Knowing that _everyone_ is feeling the same pain, knowing that I was choosing the people over the place. It would weaken our fighting force and defenses, but making a place people _want_ to protect is more important to me."

I smiled as Joji and Osamu stared at him.

Kota nodded, exaggerated in a way that told me she didn't understand all that he said.

Yahiko looked down and laughed when he saw their faces. "I'll think of a name," he promised Kota.

**夕暮れ**

Five of us sat outside in the rain.

Yahiko, laying back on the grass, hands behind his head, a smile on his face.

I sat on his left, looking up at the dark clouds, Namekuji curled up and asleep in my lap.

Naga was on Yahiko's right. He was on his stomach, cheek squished against the wet grass, hair slick and shiny with baby slime goo.

I could hear his soft snores.

Konan was next to Naga, humming as she folded paper into flowers. She put a finished one on his back.

"Akatsuki," Yahiko spoke suddenly.

I looked at him. Konan paused mid-fold.

"That's what I'm naming us," he explained. "For the day we see dawn."

"'Akatsuki,'" I repeated, rolling the name around on my tongue as I glanced back at the sky. I felt a little closer to the day I would finally get to see the sun.

"Finally," Konan sighed. "You took so long I thought I would have to do it." She reached over and put a paper flower on his forehead.

Yahiko went cross-eyed looking at it. "I thought up a lot of names, but none of them felt right," he said, tilting his head slightly her way. "But then I thought of my friends, and what I said to all of you the first time we met, and it came to me."

Konan stared at him, half-leaning over Naga, forgetting she was supposed to be teasing him, bickering with him, or reprimanding him in the face of Yahiko being _Yahiko._

Yahiko grinned and she finally, hastily drew back. His grin widened and Konan busied herself with her paper.

He tilted his head my way, somehow keeping the paper flower balanced. "What do you think of our new name?"

"Whatever it is, it's bad," Namekuji mumbled.

He was asleep again before I could poke him.

"It's..." I trailed off, searching for the right words. I thought of a boy with orange hair, a little kid himself, putting himself in danger so Naga and I could get away.

I looked at Konan, making her own happiness as she smiled and folded pieces together.

Naga, content and relaxed.

"...who we were always meant to be," I finished.

Yahiko beamed. I couldn't help matching his grin. "Learn how to set up traps yet? Or is Mamoru-sensei still doing it for you?"

Konan stiffened. "He _wasn't_ —he only gave me a few tips."

"I see, so setting up the traps, hiding them, and bringing back what was caught is a 'few tips'?" Yahiko asked.

"On second thought, Akatsuki is a bad name."

Yahiko laughed.

.

.

.

I was half-asleep, laying on my side with Namekuji curled against my chest when Yahiko spoke again, eyes closed,

"I love you guys," it was a sleepy murmur, a quiet admission in the dark.

I pulled Namekuji into my arms (ignoring his whines), and shifted closer, using Yahiko's stomach as a pillow as I laid back down. Namekuji made himself comfortable on the new warm, squishy body and I knew his shirt would be ruined by morning.

Yahiko didn't seem to mind though. He didn't even twitch.

Konan shifted closer, with the same idea, except she used Naga's back.

"I... love you too," Konan admitted. I watched her eyes widen, her hands shoot up to cover her face.

I couldn't see if it was red in the dark.

"I didn't mean—I meant everyone," she sputtered. "Not just..." she trailed off, because Yahiko was already asleep.

She sighed, and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

.

.

.

A few minutes later Nagato woke up at the bottom of an impromptu dog-pile, extremely confused.

**夜明け**

I twisted my plank to the red side, carefully lowering it back between Naga's and Konan's.

Kota's plank was next to Yahiko's, covered with swirls of red and silver. Osamu's was beside hers, a doughy figure made of red circles, colored silver by an unsteady hand. Joji's was on the opposite end, a small red stick figure with a silver cloak and a silver sword twice its size.

Kota turned hers next to me and it clattered against the wall when she let go.

"Why does sword-man get a plank, but I don't?" Namekuji asked, half over my shoulder.

"It's a Nagamaki," I corrected. That's what Joji called it, anyway.

Namekuji blew hot air at my cheek.

I twisted to avoid the spray, wiping the area clean with my sleeve. "You said they were _stupid_."

"I did," Namekuji agreed. "What's your point?"

I didn't answer right away, walking around to the front of the hideout. "Would you change it like you're supposed to?"

"No."

I paused. "Then _why_ do you want one?"

Behind me, Kota inspected a bruise near her elbow. The bottom of her cloak was muddy.

"Because everyone else has one," Namekuji answered, leaning on the top of my head.

I pushed open the door. "Not everyone."

"The people who matter."

Yahiko sat at the table, a half-eaten fish in his mouth. He waved without turning around. Joji stood against the wall near the door, arms crossed, sword strapped to his side—

I blinked. We ran out of fish days ago.

My eyes snapped back to Yahiko.

He didn't ask for the password. Scanning the room, I didn't see Konan or Mamoru-sensei. I reached for a kunai in the pouch tied to my front.

Kota stepped around me. She didn't notice at first, still looking at her arm. Then her head snapped up and she fumbled her hands together. "Kai!" she shouted.

"She's almost as bad as you were," Namekuji noted.

I shushed him.

Though she didn't use chakra, the genjutsu still fell apart. Everything shifted. Joji stood against the wall closer to the window, flipping through the book Jiraya left us. He didn't look up. Konan, at the table, lowering her hands to her lap. She smiled.

"Faster," she praised. "But still too slow."

Kota huffed.

"That goes for _both_ of you," Konan said, catching my eye. "You noticed first, Oka, but it still took a second longer than it should've. It's been a while since you've practiced, hasn't it? Maybe you should come with me and Kota next time."

I looked around the room as she spoke.

Mamoru-sensei, opposite of Yahiko at the table, legs folded beneath him.

Osamu, trying to take up as little space as possible in the corner.

Naga and Etsudo in the middle of the room. Etsudo was stretched out on her back, expression pinched. A blood-soaked blanket was pressed to her side, and Naga picked out tiny shards of glass and metal in her stomach with his other hand.

She was tanned and muscled, with slick black hair tied in a messy ponytail.

Naga was wearing my scarf, but not his cloak. His hair was tied back, fingers stained red.

I pulsed my chakra once, just in case, but nothing changed.

Konan smiled. "Maybe you're not as rusty as I thought."

"Password?" Yahiko asked.

"Nagato and I are sensors," Konan reminded him, deadpan.

"Zero," I answered anyway.

Yahiko blinked.

"Nothing," I said, daring him to correct me.

Yahiko blinked again. He turned to Naga. "Is that Oka?"

"I'm trying to concentrate," Naga said, fighting off a smile.

"You're not even using chakra—"

"Why didn't you ask me?" Konan interrupted, poking his chest.

I crept closer to the table, stepping over Osamu's legs and skirting around Kota. "We have a password, but no one likes using it," I declared.

Yahiko slowly shook his head, "Many clans have fallen from not taking the password system seriously."

Konan leaned forward. "Name one."

Yahiko looked at her, then at Namekuji. "What do I have to give you to reverse-summon Konan to Shikkotsu and leave her there?"

Konan rolled her eyes. "Just because I expose your _lies_ —"

"One of those meaty things you ate yesterday," Namekuji answered, still on my head.

"A binturong?"

"I'm worth more than _one_ binturong," Konan protested.

"Just the back legs," Namekuji added.

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "How will you trick her into standing on a summoning circle?"

"Oka will tell her I'm eating her paper."

"You can't make plans about me like I'm not here—"

"I won't," I sniffed.

Namekuji looked down at me.

"I'll do it," Kota offered. "But only if I get more silver paint. I ran out."

"At least someone here is reliable," Namekuji said.

Konan sighed, "I thought we were supposed to be moving, _Yahiko_."

Yahiko turned towards her. "We were waiting for Oka and Kota."

Konan gestured wildly at us.

"You'll pull a muscle like that."

Konan dropped her hands. "You're so _annoying_."

Yahiko grinned. "And yet you stuck with me this whole time."

Konan looked at him, then quickly away. "Someone has to keep you in check," she muttered, but without any heat.

Kota had moved away from them, gently peeling the painting of the sun off the wall. She carefully folded it and tucked it under her cloak.

Yahiko's grin grew. He laced his hands behind his head, looking around the hideout. "This place has been good to us, but we've outgrown it. It's time to move on."

"By that you mean we can't walk a foot without tripping over someone else?"

"Konan the Moment-Ruiner," Yahiko said wistfully.

"What's the new hideout like?" I asked.

"Bigger," Yahiko answered. "Emptier. It used to be used as a place to store food out of the rain, but it was abandoned in the last war."

I tilted my head. "The 'last war'?"

"The Second Shinobi World War," it was Mamoru-sensei who answered. "That was what they called the last war. This is the _Third_ Shinobi World War."

"What's the difference?"

Konan winced.

_It was all still war, wasn't it?_

"There is none," Yahiko said. "They can call it by different names, say it isn't that bad or tell us that it stopped for a while, but we know it never did. Not for us. That's why _we_ have to make them stop. To make sure they never start again."

My eyes lit up. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hear one of his speeches. He made me believe we could all over again. "Promise?"

Yahiko made a 'x' over his chest. "Cross my heart."

"I checked the place myself," Mamoru-sensei assured Konan. "It's safe. But it was the anomaly who found it in the first place."

Yahiko shot me a quick grin and stood. "Can she be moved?" he asked Naga.

Naga sat back. Shards were piled on an old, ripped pair of blue pants next to him. "I already took care of the damage to the abdominal wall and lower intestines," he explained, peeling back the blanket to look at a red, angry-looking scar.

Yahiko nodded. "And that means..."

"She can," Naga said, smiling. "But be careful."

Yahiko looked to Osamu.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Osamu pushed himself up and lumbered over to Etsudo. He knelt, murmuring a quiet apology as he pulled her into his arms as gently as he could.

Etsudo still bit back a scream, biting her lip so hard that blood dribbled down her chin.

Naga inspected her scar-line again and nodded at Yahiko.

"Time to go," Yahiko said. He picked up his practice swords, gave the room one last, quick look and then stepped out.

I followed him, walking backwards once I was outside. Kota came out behind me, then Konan and Mamoru-sensei.

I never noticed how small the hideout looked from the outside.

Naga carefully tucked his medical book deep within his cloak before he stepped out.

I remembered the gratitude in his eyes when Tsunade gave it to him, how happy I was when we ate fish with Jiraya, the anger when Naga folded in on himself when she left.

Good and bad memories, all mixed up in my head.

Joji was next, then Osamu ducked out, hunched over, trying his hardest to protect Etsudo from the rain.

All the planks were flipped to the red side, except the toad and the slug.

I held up my arms and grinned, "Goodbye!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 夕暮れ - Dusk, 夜明け - Dawn
> 
> I wanted to get to this chapter for a long time. There's only one other chapter I've waited this long for, and I think you all know what it is.


	22. A Girl Named Kota - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is a continuation of the last scene from last chapter.

"Dumb cycle doesn't end,  
I'm reborn and yet again,  
That noise is stuck inside my head.  
Oh help me this time,  
I'm finding these feelings I never knew,  
And need to hide."  
-Nerve Impulse, JubyPhonic

* * *

The blood was pink in the rain.

Yahiko had stopped in front, practice swords idle at his side.

A woman in a green flak jacket was curled on her side, eyes closed, a dark red puddle around her. A hole was in her middle.

There were five shinobi in front of us, dressed in brown and red. One of them was barely on his feet, holding his chest, supported by another. They looked tired and battered, but their weapons were raised. An older man at the front of the group held a kunai on a chain, gripping the links in his other hand.

I recognized the symbol on their forehead protectors. A big rock next to a little rock.

_Iwagakure._

A dismembered arm was left in the mud between us, fingers curled and blue.

I heard the metallic scrape of Joji unsheathing his nagamaki.

Green-clad bodies were impaled on earth spikes to my left, some in pieces.

Kota took a half-step back and raised her fists, stance low like a brawler.

Paper peeled from the tips of Konan's fingers.

Mamoru-sensei went still.

"Captain," a younger, shorter boy said, looking nervously at us. "We're in no condition to—"

"Maho!" the older man snapped. "Have you forgotten our mission, or are you a coward? We killed those Konoha dogs, we'll do the same to Hanzo's people too."

Yahiko held his practice sword out to the side before we could move, a nonverbal 'wait'. He lifted the other to rest on his shoulder and shook his head. "We're not Hanzo's shinobi," he called to them. "We're the Akatsuki. I'm Yahiko."

"Akatsuki...?" Maho quietly asked, and another smacked the back of his head. A bald man with scarred fingers.

"That's nice, kid," the captain grunted, tightening his grip on his weapon. "But that doesn't change the fact that we've been ordered not to leave witnesses. We're supposed to move discreetly, you see?"

Yahiko eyed the severed arm, tapping his practice sword against his shoulder. He smiled at them. "No one else is going to die here today," he promised.

The captain's eyes were steel. He made a subtle gesture with the hand holding the links and charged forward, the bald man and Maho behind him.

Yahiko didn't move, holding the barrier between us and them firm. "Konan, Nagato."

The woman supporting her injured comrade at the back made the snake sign.

An earth jutsu.

Konan burst into paper. I heard Naga's soft inhale, and then he closed his eyes.

The Iwagakure shinobi made it two steps forward.

Konan was high above the battlefield, her lower half made of paper, wings sprouting from her back. She pointed two fingers at the woman at the back, a second before she spat mud at us. It went off course, just slightly, enough that it landed in a harmless pile next to us.

Maho stopped and stared up with wide, awed eyes.

Four steps.

"Yahiko—" Osamu began, hesitant and urgent.

"Trust me," Yahiko said, keeping his back to us.

The woman cursed and dropped her squad mate, backing away as she swatted herself.

Seven steps.

I sat and adjusted my cloak, crossing my legs.

"Stand up, Oka," Osamu's concerned eyes flicked from me to the approaching shinobi.

I shook my head. "I trust him," I chirped.

Kota looked at me and slowly lowered her hands.

The bald man stepped on the severed hand, leaving a red smear behind.

Ten steps.

Mamoru-sensei slouched.

Osamu's gaze shot to him, but Mamoru only waved him off.

Joji didn't put away his sword, but he didn't move either.

The woman fell in a screaming heap, rubbing mud and dirt on herself.

Finally in range, the captain threw his kunai at Yahiko, the chain attached glinting silver.

Still Yahiko didn't move.

The bald man leapt, weaving through hand-signs.

Eleven—

Naga's eyes snapped open. His irises were gold. The dark blue marks under his eyes and down his nose reappeared, and another line ran down his chin and neck. Two tiny tentacles poked out of his hair. His skin was shiny.

Naga planted his feet and the ground splintered. Between one blink and the next he was between Yahiko and the enemy shinobi. He grabbed the bald man by the back of his jacket before he could finish the jutsu and tossed him backwards.

The captain's kunai was deflected by Yahiko's practice sword, the chain snapping like a whip to wind around him. Before it could, Naga gripped the links and squeezed, breaking the chain with his bare hands.

Osamu looked shocked.

The captain had the same expression. He took a single step back before Naga was in front of him, gripping him by the face.

Naga slammed him down, mud and bloody water splashing up around us.

"Aliens, all of them," Mamoru-sensei murmured.

Konan lowered herself to the ground and I realized the woman wasn't screaming anymore. She was a crumpled heap on the ground. Maho was on his knees between her and us, clutching his kunai in a shaking hand.

Konan clapped as Naga stood back up and Yahiko clapped him on the back.

Joji sheathed his sword.

Mamoru-sensei shook his head. "You think you've seen it all with these kids, and then they do something like this."

"What was that?" Osamu asked.

"Sage mode," Mamoru answered. "The kid had a slug contract _before we met_."

I stood. Namekuji didn't move or make a sound and I realized he was asleep.

Moving around Yahiko, I approached Maho. I felt eyes on my back, and then heard the quick sound of footsteps. Kota pressed her fist against my arm.

"You shouldn't go alone," she murmured.

"I'm not alone," I said, glancing back.

Kota stuck her tongue out at me.

Maho dropped the kunai and bowed low, forehead pressed against the mud. "Please," he begged. "Tell them to spare me."

I stopped in front of him, Kota next to me. "'Them?'" I asked, tilting my head. "You're not scared of _me_?"

"I—" Maho swallowed. "You're younger than me?"

I hummed at that.

Maybe, but I wasn't afraid like he was. I wasn't scared to fight, and I wasn't scared to—

_Killing is wrong, Oka._

"Why'd you come over here, anyway?" Kota asked.

I blinked. "I wanted to ask..." I trailed off, and then I remembered. "If you don't like fighting, why are you here?"

"It's not like that—" Maho stopped, fingers digging in the mud. "I'm just inexperienced."

I crouched. "Then why leave Iwagakure?"

Maho looked up at me and—there were tears in his eyes. "Do you think I had a choice?" he hissed. "I _tried_ not to graduate, but they saw right through me. I want to help the village, but—" he sniffed. "—I'm just a _genin_. I had another team, but this one needed another person and everyone strong enough was already on a mission—"

"Want to join the Akatsuki?" Yahiko asked.

I turned around.

Yahiko was further back behind me, hands laced behind his head.

Maho jerked up, eyes going wide. "W-What?"

" _You can't_ —" Konan poked Yahiko's side hard. He didn't move. "First you tell those shinobi your name, and now you're asking a potential spy to join the Akatsuki?"

"That _is_ what I asked," Yahiko agreed.

Maho shook his head. "I-I wouldn't spy on you, miss Angel!"

Konan stared at Maho.

"I was thinking more ostrich myself—"

Konan elbowed Yahiko and he choked.

"What's an angel?" I asked Maho.

"It's..." he trailed off, looking at Konan like she was the answer.

I looked at Konan too, but she didn't look like anything special to me. I glanced at Kota for her input, but she'd wandered over to Naga, who knelt next to the enemy captain, hands glowing green.

"If you sharpen your elbows a little we could make kunai out of them," Yahiko coughed, rubbing his stomach.

Ignoring him completely, Konan shook her head. "He _can't_ join the Akatsuki. He's from Iwagakure."

"So?" Yahiko asked.

"'So?'" Konan spluttered back at him. "If anyone finds out—"

"The Akatsuki is open to anyone if they want peace," Yahiko interrupted.

Maho was giving Yahiko the same look he'd given Konan. Seeing as Yahiko already got to him, I left them to bicker about it.

Naga had moved onto the bald man.

Kota was patting down his pockets. She shoved ninja wire into the folds of her cloak.

"No more sage mode?" I asked Naga. The marks were gone.

"I can't heal with it," Naga explained. The bald man's right arm was stretched out, contorted and bruised in a way that told me it was broken.

Joji stood behind me. I didn't hear him approach.

"Why are you healing him?" he signed.

Naga looked up—too late. He looked apologetic. "Could you sign that again?"

Kota pointed at his hands. "Why?"

Naga smiled softly. "Because if I let him die when I could save him, I'm no better than him," he answered. "That's what my..." he trailed off and his smile faded. "That was the first lesson I was taught by the person who taught me medical ninjutsu."

I looked up, but Joji didn't say anything else.

"Teach me sage mode," I demanded, if only to get that sad look out of Naga's eyes.

Naga blinked. "I can't," he said, a ghost of a smile on his face. "It's not something I can teach you by myself—"

I inched closer, kneeling beside him. "Teach me," I said again.

"You can ask Lady Chiyoko," he tried. "She might say yes this time—"

I already knew she wouldn't. "I want to throw people like you did."

Naga ducked his head. His shoulders shook with mirth. "That's why I _can't_ ," he emphasized. "I didn't mean to throw him this hard."

"Maybe I want to throw people _harder_ ," I told him.

Naga broke and fought to quiet his laugh. "I need to concentrate," he said. "He could die if I don't do this right."

"Maybe if it was someone else," I half-shrugged. "You're too good to let him die."

Naga turned his face away, but I could still see his grin.

I absently flicked one of his stray hairs. "Why did you grow slug eyes?"

Namekuji made a sleepy but disgruntled noise at me.

"Not eyes," Naga corrected. "They were sensory tentacles. Namekuji uses them to taste and feel the things around him, but they make my sensory range bigger."

I hummed.

"And I can taste chakra," Naga added.

"What does chakra taste like?"

"Like sweat and disappointment," Namekuji answered.

"He can't taste chakra," Naga said.

"What if you eat Naga's chakra while he's in sage mode?"

Namekuji turned to look at Naga, but he didn't answer me either.

"Why were you slimy?" Kota asked, rolling a red pill around in her hand.

Naga looked embarrassed. "I can't control it that well yet."

"Can you make acid?" I asked.

"He can't. Old grandma Chiyoko hasn't taught him how to control his pH yet."

"pH?"

" _Lady_ Chiyoko," Naga corrected.

Namekuji snorted, ignoring me. "I've known her longer than you."

"You should still be respectful."

Namekuji snorted louder.

The green sputtered out around Naga's hands, and I noticed how still he suddenly was. He turned around, and I followed his gaze to the top of the cliff above us.

A blond man in armor stood at the edge, flanked by men wearing rebreathers and shinobi gear.

I stood.

He was looking over us and, for a few, brief seconds, his gaze lingered on Osamu and Mamoru-sensei.

There was a raw sort of fury in Mamoru's eyes, a bitter and angry look that reminded me of when we met.

I looked back at Hanzo the Bastard. The man partly responsible for Naga's almost-kidnapping, for Kota being so angry at shinobi.

"You must be the group of troublemakers I've been hearing about," Hanzo rumbled, clear and loud despite being so high up.

"We're the Akatsuki," Yahiko yelled. "We've never tried to make any trouble. Our goal has always been to help the people of Amegakure however we can."

Hanzo stared down at him. "What's your name, _boy_?"

Yahiko ignored the slight. "I'm Yahiko," he answered with a grin, hooking a thumb at himself. "I hope we can work together towards peace someday."

Hanzo looked away from him without another word and his gaze stuck on us. "And _you_ must be the medic-nin. Tell me your name."

I stepped in front of Naga. I did it without thought, with only the need to protect my brother from a man who hurt so many people.

I felt the weight of his eyes in a way I hadn't when I stood in the background, the coldness. He looked at me like I was an insect, helpless and waiting to be stepped on.

But I wasn't.

I was steel and fire and a wild, untamed rage. I was born in the hell he called Amegakure and molded by death and starvation and blood.

I would rip his throat out with my teeth if my brother asked me to.

I bared my teeth at Hanzo the Bastard Salamander, throwing off the attempt to make me fear him.

_I feared you when you stood atop Ibuse, throwing chunks of buildings at me without ever knowing I was there._

But that was a long time ago, now.

And then Yahiko stood in front of me.

My eyes widened, and I remembered the one thing I was afraid of.

_I fear you taking my precious people from me._

"I can tell you all about him when we talk in person," Yahiko called up to him, smile still in place, taking the attention off us and onto himself. _Just like before._

"I don't want to be your enemy," he continued. "I want to work together to make Amegakure a better place."

Hanzo eyed him for another second, then turned away. "We'll see." And then he was gone.

Naga wrapped his arms around me from behind. " _Never_ do that again," he said, muffled against my back.

Yahiko sighed, scratching the back of his head. He half-turned back. "You always have to make things more interesting, don't you?"

I couldn't promise Naga that I wouldn't.

I would always put myself in the line of fire for the people I loved.

**戦争の子**

Carefully, Yahiko drew the outline of a bird in red paint. It was a circle with tiny dots for eyes, a shaky triangle for a beak, and stick legs. Its wings look like clouds.

Kota sat across from him, watching intently as he slowly added a second layer of paint. She pointed at its legs, "Where's the feet?"

I could see Naga on the ground floor through the rails, facing the wall, kneeling in front of a simmering pot. Konan sat on the arm of an old, broken-down couch Osamu and Yahiko had dragged in from the rain. She hummed a song as she watched him, swinging her legs. Etsudo was stretched out in the middle, the lower half of her shirt torn. I could see the fresh, pinkish-white scars covering her stomach.

The far side of the warehouse was empty and dark.

Mamoru-sensei took Namekuji with him when he left with Osamu.

"Some birds don't have feet," Yahiko answered airily.

I bent, commandeered Yahiko's drawing thumb, and added wobbly circles around the ends of each leg. "There. Now it has feet," I said.

Yahiko blinked at it, then up at me. "You just gave it shoes," he accused.

"Some feet _are_ shoes," I responded, mimicking his airy tone.

Yahiko's lips twitched. He crossed his arms and leaned back. "Such a liar, Oka," he said, mock discouraging, shaking his head. "If only someone taught you better when they still had the chance."

I stared him down. "I still bite," I reminded him.

Yahiko opened his mouth. Closed it. "I still have the scar from the last time you bit me," he said. "It stings a little more every time I think about it."

Kota, rubbing her finger in the half-dry paint making up the circle, drew a small, uneven top hat on the bird's head.

I leaned close to Yahiko and smiled, close-eyed like Konan sometimes did, "I can give you another one."

Yahiko shuffled back, putting space between us, and refocused on the bird. "Almost all messages from the war were delivered by summons or specially trained messenger birds like this one," he began. "It was faster, safer, and they're harder to take down than people."

"What kind of bird is it?" Kota asked.

Yahiko stroked his chin as he looked at the painted bird. "They mostly use hawks," he answered quickly, dismissing the question with a vague wave. " _But_ Hanzo doesn't use them much anymore. Nearly all messages with mission-sensitive information are delivered to the battlefield by shinobi. Older, experienced shinobi, handpicked by the man himself."

"Why?" I asked.

"No idea," Yahiko answered. "What could've happened is that all the shinobi with bird summons were killed, _or_ Hanzo stopped trusting them. No one I talked to knows for sure."

Kota colored in the hat with scratches of red paint.

My brows furrowed. "Why would anyone tell _you_ about Hanzo the Bastard's birds?"

"Because I asked," he said simply, smiling. "Because they know about us and what we do. Remember when I told you that no one was loyal to this crybaby village? Shinobi that were hurt in the war and forced to retire ask for me. I feed them and they tell me anything I want to know. There's a little boy that asks for Kota too."

Kota's head jerked up. "Me?"

Yahiko nodded, "Black hair, shirt too small for him. He always comes up to me and asks when the girl with curly hair is coming back."

Kota's eyes widened and she went red. She threw her hands up around her hair and ducked down.

"So, you _do_ know him," Yahiko said. "You should come with me next time I go into the village. Last time I went he glared at me."

I sat back. "Does he have baby teeth?"

Yahiko shook his head. "You know, I never thought to check."

Kota made an embarrassed noise.

I patted her arm in sympathy.

Yahiko laced his hands behind his head, looking up. "I think all the messenger shinobi carry decoy scrolls on them, just to make it a little harder for pickpockets. That's where you come in, Kota."

Kota's eyes snapped up to his.

"You were right before," Yahiko went on. "The people here don't see us as a separate group from Hanzo, and this is the first step to fix that. You know how to take things without getting caught. You wouldn't have made it this far if you didn't."

Kota frowned. "Ya- _You_ want me to take stuff from _shinobi_?" she asked. "I've never... I _can't_."

"Did you ever think the leader of Amegakure would come to see us?"

"'Course I did _,_ " she mumbled, looking away.

Yahiko smiled, "Did you ever think you'd be here, with us?"

Kota didn't answer, scratching at a floorboard with her pinky.

"I believe in us, and I believe in you too."

Kota froze.

"I don't expect you to come back with a scroll on your first try, but I trust your judgement. I trust you to pick an easy target, maybe steal kunai or shuriken to practice," Yahiko said, leaning back. "You wouldn't go alone. I'd send Konan or Nagato with you, in case you need help. But I don't think you'll need it."

"Why?" she asked quietly. "I expect Oka to say stupid stuff like this, but you barely know me. _Why_ do you believe I can? Why ask _me_? Is it just 'cause you can't 'feel me' or whatever?"

"That's partly it," Yahiko admitted. "But, mostly, it's because you're just as important as anyone else in the Akatsuki. I fully believe you can do this, and I wish you'd believe it too."

Kota ducked her head, fists clenched. "Why is it always so _hard_ to trust either of you when you say dumb stuff?"

Yahiko's eyes were soft. He reached out and patted her head.

Kota gasped at the sudden contact, throwing up a hand to defend herself, an old instinct she never managed to shake.

"I felt like that for a long time too," he admitted. He ruffled her hair and she stared up at him. " _Every time_ I trusted someone it blew up in my face. But then I met Konan, and I knew that if I was going to be a god of peace like I always wanted, I had to give other people a chance, even if it would just hurt in the end. I would've never found Nagato and Oka if I didn't, and then—" he gestured around the warehouse. "—none of this would've happened. I never would've gotten this far on my own."

Kota scooted back, rubbing furiously at her eyes. "Why does everyone always make me cry?" she hiccuped.

I shrugged at Yahiko. "You gave me and Naga the world. 'Course we have to help you take a little bit of it back."

Yahiko grinned and it was so bright that—

I wondered why I wanted to see the sun so bad when it was right in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 戦争の子 - War Child.
> 
> I might have channeled Mob Psycho 100 a little too much when I wrote Nagato's fight scene.


	23. A Man Named Haruto - Part 1

"I can finally say real and sincere words,

I dedicate this song to you,

Thank you so much,

Thank you so much,

For giving me the chance to live in this world with a heart."

-Kokoro, Lollia

* * *

"This is the saddest kunai I've ever seen," Etsudo said loudly, waving a dull, poorly maintained kunai at us. Her other hand was pressed against her side, and she flinched when she raised her arm too high.

The first thing she'd done upon deciding she was healed enough to get up was to take all our weapon pouches and make a pile of kunai and shuriken at the bottom of the stairs.

"This wouldn't be able to cut through _melonpan,_ let alone a _person_ ," she chastised. Disgusted, she dropped it back in the pile.

She bent to grab a shuriken, slowly, biting on her lip so hard that I could see spots of red when she straightened.

I crossed my legs, on the floor next to the couch, watching her stare at the rust and the misshapen points with a disturbed sort of belief. It was more of a sharp, bumpy circle than a shuriken.

"How does this even _happen_?"

"Well," Yahiko drawled, sitting on the back of the couch. "Between all the battles we've fought and won, we barely have time to—"

Konan, pressing both hands against his back, shoved him forward and he tumbled down onto the cushions. "We fought _one_ battle," she corrected. "And it barely counts."

"Still mad that Nagato did all the work while you watched?" he asked, upside-down.

Konan picked up an old, slime-covered shirt and whacked him with it. "And what did _you_ do, huh? Stand back and wait for _Nagato_ to save you?"

Yahiko, hands raised to protect his face, laughed. " _I_ protected the Iwagakure shinobi. Did you see how fast Joji-sensei drew his nagamaki? He was out for blood!"

Etsudo blinked at them for a moment, shuriken half-lowered. Then, dismissing them, she hobbled over to where Mamoru-sensei, Osamu, and Joji sat in a circle, Yahiko's deck of cards in a messy pile between them.

"Fine, fine, they're _kids._ But what's _your_ excuse for letting their weapons get like this, Mamo?" she asked, fighting to hide how hard she was breathing.

"Kids," Mamoru-sensei scoffed without looking. "Give it a few days and you won't think that."

Joji added a card to the pile. Osamu, after leaning down to look at it, grumbled and threw his hand down. He was still grumbling as he swept the pile closer to himself and began turning all the cards to face the right way.

"'Mamo?'" Konan asked, putting the shirt down.

" _Oh_ , he didn't tell you?" Etsudo asked, a slow grin spreading across her face. She bent, and I saw how hard she was pressing against her side as she slung an arm around Mamoru-sensei's shoulders. "We go _way_ back. Before the Second World War back."

Mamoru-sensei ignored her, surrendering his cards so Osamu could shuffle them. He didn't look up when she leaned close to him, her chin practically resting on his back.

Konan's eyes went wide. "You knew Mamoru-sensei before the war?" she asked. "You _have_ to tell me what he was like. Did you know Osamu-sensei too?"

"No, she didn't," Osamu answered, giving Mamoru a curious look.

Etsudo laughed. "I've got plenty of embarrassing stories. Oh! What about the time in Tanzuku Town when—"

"You're a parasite," Mamoru-sensei grunted. "No matter how hard I try to get rid of you, you keep coming back."

"Is that why you've been ignoring me all week?" she asked. "Because you're embarrassed?

"We were only on one mission together," Mamoru-sensei corrected, ignoring her again.

"And it ended with all of us swearing never to go back," Etsudo said, throwing her head back to laugh. "We got _so_ sick. Our sensei took us to this shady restaurant to celebrate and—"

Mamoru-sensei's sigh was long-suffering.

"—and we were practically babies back then, so we didn't know any better. I _still_ don't know how something that tasted that good could put all of us out of commission like that. It had meat in it, I think? What was it again?"

Mamoru-sensei picked up the cards Osamu dealt to him and didn't answer.

"Well, anyway, we were lucky. It was a standard genin-delivery mission, so we finished it pretty fast. We had _way_ too much time on our hands. But that also meant we had plenty to rest up in our inn rooms until we recovered enough to make the trip back. I still feel bad for whoever had to clean up after us."

Konan covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. "That sounds _awful_ ," she said. "Was it really that memorable?"

Etsudo's easy smile cracked. "Yeah," she said, pulling her arm off Mamoru-sensei. "It was. I retired from active duty not long after that. I found out quickly that I wasn't cut out for shinobi life. But sometimes—" she stopped and closed her eyes.

"—sometimes I wish I hadn't."

"You don't have to talk about it," Konan said quickly, all fake smiles. "I want to hear more about that mission with Mamoru-sensei."

Etsudo sighed. "No. You all saved my life. The least I could do is..." she trailed off. "I used to work under Hanzo and I-I know things. For all I know you're already aware of everything I'm about to say but—" she looked down, shoulders hunching.

Suddenly, she looked very small.

"—I became a blacksmith when I retired. Ran in the family. I won't say I was the best, but I was good at what I did. I was going to give my shop to my son when he was older," she whispered.

It felt like everything stopped. Osamu put down his cards. Mamoru-sensei closed his eyes. Konan winced.

Etsudo took in a deep, shuddering breath. "There aren't many blacksmiths left," she said. "Hanzo—he had me working with Root. Sharpening their blades, fixing the weapons they broke. He's got them running around, pretending to be shinobi of the village. All my other customers died or couldn't pay, so I didn't have much of a choice."

Etsudo's son. Another name to add to the ever-widening list in my head. I pushed myself up. "Why?" I asked.

 _Why did it lead back to Root,_ again?

Etsudo wiped her eyes. "There isn't enough of anything here. Money, materials, shinobi. So, Hanzo went and got outside help to fill the hole the dead left in our ranks. I don't know the details of the arrangement he's got with Danzo, but I thought you should know."

I took half a step back, like her words were a physical blow.

How long had Hanzo been working with...?

Did he know that Root was kidnapping orphans?

Neither Osamu nor Mamoru looked surprised.

Etsudo trembled, as strong and breakable as glass. "I want so badly to think that it was an accident. That my shop was caught in the crossfire, because the other option—the _alternative_ is that it was done on purpose. And because I retired, because I chose to let my chakra dwindle and shrink, I couldn't do a damn thing but watch as my entire life fell on top of us."

I looked up at the ceiling. I could see a hole, where rain sometimes dripped down. I was tired.

Tired and sick of death.

How many more times would I have to hear a story like this before we finally had peace?

**意図**

Osamu blinked at the familiar boy approaching him.

His name, if he remembered right, was Maho.

Maho looked up at him nervously, shivering and rubbing his arms, his red sweater sagging on him. It took him back to a battle of paper wings and slugs, of Yahiko, determined that everyone should live.

A boy who was already proving himself to be a better leader than people twice his age.

Osamu glanced around the area, looking for his comrades, or others that might've followed him. But, as far as he could tell, Maho had come alone.

Though that didn't mean much when he couldn't sense worth a damn.

It was why Mamoru and Namekuji were hidden somewhere behind him under the cover of genjutsu. Osamu didn't quite understand how, but the slug could sense as well as Nagato.

Maho, teeth chattering, stopped in front of him.

Osamu felt for him. It must've been rough, adjusting from the dry, temperate climate of Iwagakure to the cold and the rain. He kept his face impassive, giving the boy his most intimidating stare.

Maho got down on his knees and bowed low. "Please," he managed. "Please let me join the Akatsuki."

Osamu hesitated, because for all the scenarios he'd mentally prepared for, this wasn't one of them. He was well-acquainted on how to deal with injured shinobi, and even how to turn away hostiles and those who begged him for food he didn't have. This was off-script, and he'd never been good with being put on the spot.

His first thought was to ask why.

_Why abandon your village for Yahiko?_

Mamoru beat him to it though. Melting out of the shadows, it looked like he'd appeared out of thin air next to him.

Maho gasped.

"Why shouldn't we think this is a trap?" he asked.

A different Osamu might have questioned why Namekuji chose to perch on Mamoru's head, or, even more importantly, why Mamoru allowed it.

A less jaded him, maybe.

Maho's head jerked up. "Because—" he stopped, grimacing. "I wasn't going to come back, but we ran into another group before we reached the border and..." he trailed off, eyes dark. "I had to wash the blood off, after. I scrubbed and scrubbed but it wouldn't come off and it felt like earthworms were rolling around in my stomach but no matter how much I threw up they wouldn't come out—"

"Quiet," Mamoru snapped, because Maho became progressively louder as he spoke.

Maho shuddered. "I don't want to fight anymore," he whispered. "Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't care. I _never_ want to have to do that again. I want peace."

Mamoru shook his head and sighed, and Osamu knew what he was thinking, because he was thinking it too.

If Yahiko was here, he already would've let Maho join.

"Welcome to the Akatsuki."

**アクション**

A map had been drawn on the wall in silver goo, all wiggly, uneven lines, villages and countries neatly labeled in red. Yahiko pointed at Amegakure with a red finger.

"This is where we are," he began, for Kota's benefit. "And the plan—" he traced a line to the right and up through the Land of Fire, stopping in the space between the marker for Konohagakure and Takigakure. "—is to take this path to Suisai."

Joji sat back against the wall nearest to the stairs, nagamaki propped up next to him. Mamoru-sensei was across from him, bent over a scroll unrolled on the floor between them. Parts of it were blotchy and smeared by rain, hard or impossible to read.

"What's 'Suisai'?" Kota asked sleepily. Her head was against my shoulder. It'd taken her all night to find a good chance to lift the scroll.

"It's a town," Yahiko answered, drawing a small circle. "It used to be a rest stop for shinobi going to Takigakure from Konohagakure, or from Kusagakure to Yugakure. The villages that are allied with Konohagakure avoid the area now to protect the people. If shinobi _do_ go there, it almost always ends in a fight and innocent people dying."

"The thing is, Suisai's income mostly came from the shinobi that stayed at inns and resupplied as they passed through. They sold their wheat to Konohagakure, but that's stopped too."

I squinted at him. Kota's head drooped, and I could feel her drool. "Who told you all of that?"

Yahiko blinked. "It was in the scroll. The one _you_ didn't read."

I sniffed daintily and looked away.

"We shouldn't make any plans until we know how much the pay will be," Osamu said.

"That doesn't matter," Yahiko responded, shaking his head. "What's important is the attention. Other than the people here and _maybe_ those Iwagakure shinobi, no one knows who we are. I want more people to know we're out there, that there's a group still looking for peace."

"It would still be nice," Mamoru-sensei said, leaning back.

Yahiko looked up at the roof. "I'm taking Konan, Nagato and Oka with me," he decided.

Osamu's brows furrowed. "I should go with you," he said. "If you're set on this, Nagato should stay behind in case someone injured comes looking for him."

Konan was on the floor, helping Naga stack cards into towers of triangles. "No offense, but you're not exactly subtle, Osamu-sensei," she said with a smile.

Maho sat next to them, watching, legs pulled up to his chest.

Osamu blinked once. "Then Mamoru should go."

Yahiko shook his head. "Mamoru-sensei has to take over while I'm gone," he said. "The Akatsuki can't _not_ have a leader."

Mamoru-sensei sighed, "And I'm assuming my consent is optional?"

"You can say no," Yahiko responded thoughtfully. "But then everything would fall apart."

Mamoru-sensei stared at him.

"What Yahiko is trying to say is that we trust you the most, Mamoru-sensei," Konan said. "The others are okay, but we've known you the longest."

Osamu frowned at that.

"And the reason why I can't accompany you?" Joji signed.

Yahiko pointed at Maho. "You need to watch him."

Maho stiffened.

Joji looked at him, then slowly up at Osamu.

Yahiko stroked his chin. "How do I say this without coming off as rude?"

"Maho might be able to trick Osamu-sensei into letting him go," Konan said with a half-shrug. "You won't, Joji-sensei."

Mamoru scoffed.

Osamu's frown deepened.

Joji stared at Osamu for a few seconds, then went back to trying to decipher the scroll without another word.

"I wouldn't do that," Maho murmured, stuffing his hands under his arms.

"Why Nagato?"

"That one doesn't have a reason," Konan answered without looking. "He just wants Nagato to come too."

Naga tried to add a fourth level to their tower of triangles and the entire thing collapsed. Konan shoved his shoulder, and Naga murmured an apology around a smile.

"Oka doesn't have to go," Osamu tried.

"True," Yahiko agreed, nodding. "But Nagato would throw a fit if I didn't let her. You should've seen how much he cried last time. I think he flooded the place all by himself—"

"I _did not_ ," Naga said, the tips of his ears red.

"—and even if I said no, I think most of us can agree that Oka would just follow us anyway."

I smiled, because I would. "Why can't Kota come?"

She'd shifted down and her head was on my leg, her body curled up.

"Because we're leaving at sundown," Yahiko said. "And..." he gestured wildly, and I looked down at her, at the deep shadows under her eyes, at the puddle she left on the ground, because she'd been too tired to change into something dry.

I understood.

I maneuvered out of my cloak as Osamu asked another question, folding it and carefully slipping it under Kota's head so I could stand. I stepped around the couch to where Namekuji was hidden, eating the fatty pieces of meat no one else wanted.

Etsudo was on the couch, curled up, her back to me.

Namekuji didn't stop me from lifting him up. "I never interrupt you when _you're_ eating," he grumbled.

I shifted him in my arms. "You're getting heavy again," I murmured.

"Yet _I'm_ the mean one."

"I'm taking Namekuji with us," I decided, raising my voice.

Mamoru-sensei looked over. "Leave the slug," he said. "We might need him."

"He wouldn't be able to help much. Not unless Naga stays."

"I haven't insulted you once all day," Namekuji went on.

I fought a smile.

"He can still spit acid, can't he?"

"Nope," I said, keeping a straight face. "He's useless."

I felt Namekuji's body expand and peel into two. The bigger half slipped out of my hold and plopped to the floor. It slithered around the couch and went to Mamoru-sensei, while the tiny part of himself he left with me climbed up my arm and sat on my shoulder.

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm letting any of me go with you," he said.

I smiled brightly at him.

Mamoru-sensei gave the scroll a final glance and stood. "The client's name is Haruto. Anything under that is a lost cause."

"How will you get out of the village without Hanzo knowing?" Osamu asked.

Yahiko grinned, "Just leave it to me."

**反応**

Water splashed over my ankles, covering my feet with black sand.

A few feet in front of us, a thin, rugged-looking man sat in a boat, bobbing gently in the water. He used two long pieces of wood called 'oars' to keep it steady.

I'd never seen a boat before.

Naga hadn't either, because he was staring at it too.

It was made of tightly packed planks of wood, but it didn't sink or rot. The sides were curved, two 'U' shapes that had been pushed together. I stepped closer, leaning over to look at the interior, and saw that the middle was made of wood too.

"Why doesn't it sink?" I asked Naga.

Naga ran his fingers along the side. "I don't know," he said, mystified.

The boatman held the oars so tightly his knuckles were white. He glanced nervously at the rocks and sand behind us.

Yahiko carefully climbed in the middle and sat, gripping the sides when it rocked.

Konan sat behind him.

Naga, with Konan giggling and holding his arms as he wobbled, got in behind her.

I planted a foot in the tiny space between Yahiko and the front and grabbed the side, clamoring in like a spider.

At the head of the boat, the boatman turned one of the oars and the whole boat moved, pointing away from the bank.

"Thanks for this, Noriko," Yahiko said, still holding the sides.

The boatman paused. "I never would've lived this long without the Akatsuki," he quietly admitted. "This barely chips that debt."

Yahiko didn't smile. He went tight and stiff as we went over a wave.

Konan leaned forward. "Don't tell me our fearless leader finally met his match?"

I leaned over the side and stretched a hand down, feeling the tickle of water as it crashed against my palm. The boat wobbled slightly, and I heard Yahiko's fingers digging into the wood.

"I'm not afraid of the boat," Yahiko said, voice spiking high at the end.

Konan shook her head. "We water-walk all the _time_ —"

"It's not the same," Yahiko cut her off. "Water-walking never feels like this."

Konan snickered. "I'll beat the boat up for you when we get off," she promised.

I leaned back and Yahiko swore.

"Why _are_ we taking a boat?"

"The same reason we're in civilian clothes," Konan answered. "If Hanzo knew we left, he might try and stop us. He might not care at all, but it's better not to take the chance. Even if someone alerts him to the boat, he'll just think we're another group of defectors."

I hummed. It made sense.

I stood and the boat tilted.

Yahiko squeezed his eyes shut. Even Naga looked pale.

"Careful," Konan warned. "Move slow. Sit back down."

I took the first half of her advice, but not the second. I climbed up onto the side, routing chakra to the bottom of my feet to make myself lighter and stick to the wood as I walked carefully to the bow.

Noriko stopped rowing when I stepped in front of him. "Listen to your friends and _sit down_ ," he said sternly. "This isn't a toy."

"But I want to see..." I trailed off. There was water in every direction I looked. It seemed like it would never end. Wind and rain lashed at my clothes, but I was rooted in place.

"You feel like ice," Namekuji complained at me, burrowing in the folds of my cloak.

The boat shook, tipping forward. It wasn't enough to move me, but I couldn't catch my flower crown before it hit the water. I watched it bob away, bumping against the mossy wreckage of a tower.

I wondered if I could catch back up with the boat if I went after it.

"You have to come down," Noriko insisted. "You're unbalancing the boat, and these waters are dangerous—"

"She's fine," Naga interrupted him. I watched him scoot to the very back of the boat, and that seemed to settle it, somewhat. He swallowed. "As long as you can see around her, she's fine."

I glanced back at Noriko, at the disapproval in his eyes, and I smiled.

Because it was funny that he thought falling off the boat was the worst thing that could happen to me.

**ユリ**

Noriko didn't have much faith in us.

I knew by the way he stared back at us. It was a few seconds too long, like he thought he wouldn't see us again. He reminded me of Mamoru-sensei asking Yahiko to prove himself; Osamu, treating us like little kids.

I didn't smile when he looked at me. I didn't wave.

He quickly turned away and lifted the oars, rowing away from us. I watched him until he was a shadowy figure in the distance.

The rain was lighter, a soft patter instead of a downpour, and there were more trees than I'd ever seen in the village. Some sprouted of out the water, wide, dark gray trunks that shot up into the sky, the leaves dangling down like fur. Others were planted haphazardly, away from the white sand and in the tall grass beyond.

When I looked up, I saw slivers of pink through the clouds. Not quite the sun, but closer than I'd ever been.

Yahiko was bent over on the sand, hands on his knees, coughing and wiping his mouth.

Konan patted his back, even as she teased him.

Naga was on the grass on his knees, bent over something.

I looked out at the water again, but I couldn't see Noriko anymore.

The grass was wet and squishy, and my feet sunk down with every step. I stopped beside Naga. He'd uprooted a patch of grass and dug a small hole in the mud underneath.

A white flower with curled, droopy petals sat on the grass next to him. It had a long stem, the roots light brown and spindly.

"Whatcha' doin'?" I asked.

Naga stopped. Mud was under his nails. "I thought this would be a good place for it," he said sheepishly. "I picked it before we left for Etsudo's son. I know she wouldn't want anything to do with it right now, but I wanted to remember him in some way."

"Why?" I skirted around the hole, standing opposite of him. "We never did anything for anyone else who died."

Naga scooped another handful of mud out. "Maybe we should."

_Maybe we...?_

"It's... not for them anyway," he admitted. "It's so the people that were left behind have a place to come and remember them. Or cry." He carefully picked up the flower and gently placed it in the hole, angling the roots down.

"If I did this right, it'll grow and make more lilies. So he'll live on in some way. I wish I could do this for everyone that died in the war, but there aren't enough lilies in the village for that." He patted mud down on top of the roots and I wondered...

Could a flower really mean that much?

I clenched my fists. "I wish we planted flowers for Chibi," I said, sudden and quiet.

I looked at the flower, so white and full of life, and I wondered what Chibi would be like now if he was still alive.

It had been... a long time since I thought about him like this.

Naga faltered, looking up. "We still can," he told me. "When we get back, you can help me find some. We'll plant them around the hideout."

My eyes widened.

Naga smiled and I felt a strange, wet sensation down my cheek.

_I was... crying?_

Surprised, I slapped the tear away, rubbing a hand hard against my eyes.

When was the last time I cried?

"You made me sad," I accused. His smile was softer when I looked at him again.

"A good sad," Naga explained. "It's okay to feel sad about the people who are gone sometimes."

I shivered. Then I got down on my hands and knees and helped him fill the hole.

If my eyes were red, he didn't say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 意図 - Intent, アクション - Action, 反応 - Reaction, ユリ - Lily
> 
> Specifically, Nagato planted a Swamp Lily.  
> *melonpan - sweet bun covered in a thin layer of crisp cookie dough.
> 
> Yahiko - 14-15  
> Nagato/Konan - 13-14  
> Oka - 10-11  
> Kota - 9-10


	24. A Man Named Haruto - Part 2

"This desire calling me,

A never ending loop.

Making all the same mistakes,

A hundred times.

Crumbling from all the shame inside."

-ScaPEGoat, AmaLee

* * *

Bodies were tangled in the thick grass, hands and feet sticking out of the mud.

Trees were bloated with blood, trunks dyed pinkish-red. Red cracks ran up the sides like veins. It clung to the tips of the hanging leaves and left dark, dried streaks on the grass. Some of the trees were missing chunks, riddled with holes, or scorched black.

I felt like I was still in Amegakure, except there was no rain.

Yahiko's hand shot out in front of me. His eyes were fixed on something below me.

I didn't see it at first, until the clouds parted to allow a little more moonlight through, and I spotted a silver flash of ninja wire hidden in the dark. It was pulled taut, waiting patiently for someone to walk into it.

I turned my head, following it until it disappeared into the underbrush.

It was a trap, forgotten or left behind by people who were probably dead.

Yahiko pointed up. "Let's travel through the trees from now," he signed. "Be careful."

He turned around to relay the same message to Konan and Naga and I went to the nearest tree, leaning a foot against a bright red patch of bark. It made a watery squirt when I applied pressure, sap and blood dribbling down into the grass.

The only difference between Amegakure and here was that I could see the curve of the moon when I looked up.

**綺麗な**

I leaned forward when I saw the first traces of light.

It was a slow, hostile takeover of the night sky, yellow slowly eating away at dark blue. It leaked through the clouds, bathing them a mix of deep orange and dark pink.

Naga's breath caught. He stood on the branch on my right, watching the sky with wide eyes.

The darkness persisted for what felt like hours, until a small circle appeared at the bottom of the sky, growing bigger and brighter with each minute that passed. The outer circle was a bright, dazzling expanse of yellow, the center a white I'd only ever seen on paper.

I reached out, curling my fingers around the light, the warmth.

I watched the thing they called the sun rise and grow, reshaping the darkness to a light, gentle blue.

It was bigger than I ever imagined.

Pinpricks spread down my fingers and touched the bare skin of my neck, drying the water I carried with me from Amegakure. It felt like I was in Shikkotsu again, but this wasn't warmth.

It was heat _._

It burrowed deep into my bones and curled around me like a blanket.

I never felt anything like it before.

The color bled out of the clouds until they were a solid, fluffy white and I realized that it was over. That _this_ was what it felt like to watch the sun rise.

I wished I could've bottled it up and taken it back with me.

I wished Kota had been here to see it.

I dropped my hand, and for the second time in two days, I was crying again.

I wiped my eyes. I wanted it to be like this every single day.

I'd dreamed of seeing it for years, but I still felt blown away.

"Either you _really_ liked it, or you _really_ hated it," Yahiko mused.

I glanced over. Yahiko and Konan were on the branch to my left. He was grinning, but he was crying too.

Konan leaned back against his shoulder, arm looped through his. She didn't look at me, but I saw a dry line on the back of her hand where she'd been wiping her tears.

I turned back to stare at the sun, but it started to hurt after a few seconds. I lowered my gaze, surprised at the dark spots filling my vision.

The sun made see something that I'd only ever experienced when I was dizzy and starving.

_Why don't you want me to look at you, Sun?_

Naga's head was tilted back when I looked at him, soaking up the warmth.

I didn't have the words to describe how I felt.

"Thank you," I managed to Yahiko.

**残酷**

Naga paused on a branch, abruptly stiff. "Nine people. Southeast," he signed quickly. "I think they're fighting each other." He turned to Konan. "Can you feel them?"

Konan, frowning, shook her head.

"I can spit acid at them," Namekuji helpfully offered, on top of my head.

I shushed him. Sweat beaded down my forehead, loose hairs sticking to my ears.

Heat simmered just under my skin, like the sun was trying to boil me alive. My Akatsuki robe was tied around my stomach, sleeves bunched up around my shoulders.

I tilted my head back and grinned when I felt warmth on my face.

It was still better than the cold.

Konan, her cloak tied around her waist, looked to Yahiko. "What do we do?" she signed.

Yahiko looked southeast. "How much chakra do they have left?"

Naga hesitated. "I don't know," he said. "They're at the edge of my range. We would need to move closer for me to know for sure."

Yahiko didn't respond for a few seconds. "We'll wait here until you can't sense them anymore, or they head this way," he signed back. "We don't know enough for interrupting them to be worth it."

I sat back and crossed my legs. "What if someone's hurt?" I asked Naga.

Naga closed his eyes. "I still won't go," he signed. "I can't. Yahiko—" he faltered. "He was right. There might be more of them past where I can sense them, reinforcements, or they could be stronger than us. If I go and _any_ of those are true, I'll be putting you, Konan and Yahiko in danger too. I'll still help as many people as I can, but I won't if it means being the reason you get hurt." He dropped his hands, frowning.

I wondered if he felt like he was letting them die.

Yahiko leaned back against the trunk, hands laced behind his head. "Even if none of that was true and we _could_ take them, healing them isn't a risk we can take now," he said quietly, staring up. "While I'm confident we can take on the whole world if we have to, people will come after us if they know there's a medic-nin on the battlefield." He shot Naga a lopsided smile. "At least wait until _after_ we're done in Suisai."

Naga didn't smile back. His clenched his fists in his lap. "I know," he murmured. "Doesn't make it any less frustrating to do nothing."

Yahiko glanced at him and sat up, rolling up his pant leg. "If you _really_ want to help, you can look at this weird mole that appeared on my foot the other day. I woke up one day and it was just there."

"Ignore him. He's disgusting," Konan said. She held up a hand and small slips of paper swirled lazily above her palm. "If you want, we can make a tower while we wait."

Naga only smiled.

**一人で**

He was a beast.

It was the first word that came to mind when I saw the boy bathed in blood. There were streaks of scarlet in his gray hair, across his mouth, and dried into the grass around him.

There were five others around him, all dead.

Konan's eyes went wide. Naga sucked in. Yahiko went still.

The boy was hunched over one of the bodies, a bloody kunai gripped tight. I saw the wildness in his eyes as he stared up at us, a monster lurking under the skin of a boy.

It was okay though, because I was a wild thing too.

I hopped down, bending my knees so landing didn't hurt, and straightened.

"Oka!" it was Naga who called after me and followed me down from the tree.

I didn't turn around.

The boy tracked the movement, eyes purple and dull. His headband told me he was from Yugakure.

_How many people did the war make you kill?_

_How many bodies did it take to turn you into this?_

I thought of what I should say, what Yahiko would do if we were in Amegakure.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Hey," I called to him, forgoing the need to be quiet. If we weren't alone, we wouldn't have found him alive. "Want to come with us?"

Naga made a noise of protest.

I heard Konan swat Yahiko, whisper-hissing that this was all his fault.

The boy didn't hear me. His expression didn't change. He didn't blink.

I dropped my hands.

Words wouldn't work on him. He wasn't listening.

Looking at him, at the way he stood, holding his kunai up, his other hand ready to defend, even though we were only standing and watching him—it told me of a way to reach him.

It was a language that I was the only one here that really understood.

"Don't, Oka," Naga said quietly, knowing even before I untied my cloak, folded it, and put it down on the ground.

I took off my scarf, dropped it on top of the cloak, and gently pulled Namekuji off my neck. "I'll be right back," I told him, lowering him on top of the pile.

"This is why I don't like using you people as heaters," he grumbled. "You always move me _just_ as I get comfy."

Naga grabbed my arm. He was all worry, eyes flicking between me and the boy. "We don't know what he's capable of," he warned. "Yahiko will make a plan and—"

"Does he have more chakra than all of us?" I interrupted him.

Naga's hesitation was answer enough. He still wanted to protect me, like always.

I pulled my arm free and walked away from him. I could hear Konan above me, whispering loudly, but if Yahiko wanted to stop me he already would've.

The boy held his kunai up higher. He clutched it closer to the blade than the handle, telling me he either wasn't used to using throwing weapons or trained badly.

I smiled at him.

He leapt and I spun a kunai into my palm, clashing with him, sparks flying between us.

We were both products of war.

He pulled back and swung again, wild and unfocused. His body was a puppet, his strings the desire to survive and kill.

I parried him, throwing him off balance. I twisted and drove my foot into his stomach.

He stumbled, pain flashing across his face, but he didn't fall. His eyes narrowed when I grinned.

He threw himself at me. He didn't care when I twisted his wrist and forced him to drop the kunai. His other hand clamped around mine before it hit the grass, nails digging into my arm until it hurt.

I bared my teeth at him, and he bared his right back at me.

He yanked, trying to pull me closer, his mouth opening, straining to sink his teeth into my neck.

I let go of the kunai and shoved a hand under his jaw, forcing his mouth shut, hearing the click of his teeth.

He thrashed his head until I lost my grip, and I jerked back before he could bite me.

He wouldn't let go of my arm.

I drove my fist into his nose and he howled. Still, he didn't let go.

He grappled at my throat, one eye closed, blood dripping from his nose. I rewarded the effort by digging my teeth deep into the fleshy part of his hand.

I could bite too.

He hissed and let go of my arm. He grabbed a handful of my hair and _yanked._

I bit down harder, shaking my head like a rabid dog, but he had an iron grip. He pulled and pulled until I let go of his hand with a gasp, my neck aching.

I growled and kicked at his knee. His leg buckled, but he was still on his feet, so I kicked the other one too.

He tumbled, pulling me down with him, and then we were punching and kicking and rolling around in the blood and grass.

Eventually, having enough of him tugging on my hair, my elbow connected with the side of his head. It disoriented him long enough for me to jerk his hand away and shove my knee against his throat.

He choked, scratching at my pants, kicking his legs. "Piece of shit," he managed. His eyes looked clearer than before. "Get the fuck off me, asshole!"

I blinked. He had a surprising amount of air for someone with a knee to his throat. I pressed down harder and he wheezed.

"Apologize," I demanded, gesturing at the disaster he'd made of my braid. My arm was bruised purple-red.

"Fuck no," he shouted, somehow. "Go die in a fucking _ditch_ —" he stopped suddenly, eyes widening, looking at the bodies around us. He went limp.

I followed his gaze to the body of a dead boy, laying facedown, then to a girl next to him. She was on her side, skin tinted blue, a jagged cut across her neck. She looked my age.

Not all of them died by his hand.

I shifted off him, inspecting the crescent-shaped marks on my arm as he rubbed his throat and sat up. He turned his back to the bodies, frowning, staring at me.

"Where's your shitty headband?"

"Don't have one," I told him, ignoring the language. The marks hurt, but he didn't break the skin.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

I blinked at him. "'Cause I want you to come with us."

He looked baffled.

I stood up. The blood was uncomfortably warm under my feet. "We're the Akatsuki," I introduced with a smile. "I'm Oka."

He rubbed the bite mark on his hand, troubled. "What the shit is wrong with you?"

" _You_ attacked _me_ ," I reminded him. "What's wrong with _you_?"

He looked briefly surprised, looking away from me. "I don't remember that," he grumbled.

"You're going to make all my hair turn gray before I'm eighteen," Naga murmured behind me. He was kneeling when I turned around.

I patted his head with my uninjured hand. "You worry too much."

Naga's smile was soft. "I can't help it. I'm your big brother. I'll always worry."

"I know," I told him. "But I knew I could win."

Naga shook his head, taking my other hand, his palm glowing green. "You didn't _tell me_ that."

"Would you've let me go if I did?"

Naga didn't answer and stubbornly refused to meet my eyes.

I smiled, looking above him, to where Konan stood on the grass with her arms crossed. "Yep," she said, eyes on Yahiko. "Your fault."

Yahiko squinted at me. "I don't remember fighting anyone on a pile of blood and corpses."

Konan stared at him. "How long ago was it that you recruited Maho?"

" _That_ doesn't count."

"There was blood," Konan said slowly. "And there were corpses."

"I didn't do any fighting," he responded airily. "I only defended myself."

Konan gestured at me. "But you made her think it was okay to recruit people in the middle of a battlefield."

"It was a field of battle," he clarified. "But it wasn't a battlefield _._ "

"And what's the difference?"

"Well, one is a _field of battle_. And the other is a _battlefield._ "

"So, none?"

Yahiko paused. "I still say this isn't my fault."

Naga released my arm and stood, moving to the boy, only to pause when he pushed himself back, putting space between them. I saw fear in his eyes. It was there for only a brief second before his fists clenched and he stood, glaring at my brother.

"Stay the fuck away from me," he said venomously.

I held my healed hand up for him to see, and the boy's eyes widened when he saw that the bruising was gone. "He's a medic-nin. He wants to help you," I explained. " _Or,_ you could say no and die from all the poison I injected you with when I bit you."

He frowned at the bite. "You think I'll believe that shit?"

I shrugged.

His frown deepened. He thrust out his hand. "You're still shit," he said.

Naga paused. He wordlessly took the offered hand. "What's your name?" he murmured.

"Fuck, and You."

"Don't curse at him," I said.

"That goes _double_ for you," he spat, glaring at me.

"It's nice to meet you, Fuck," Naga politely responded. "Is that a family name?"

I stared at his back. I never heard Naga curse before.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "You're a dipshit," he answered, then paused. "It's Hidan."

"So," Yahiko drawled, walking over, hands behind his head. "Is our foul-mouthed little friend coming with us?"

"Choke on a dick," Hidan growled.

"Enlightening," Yahiko said. "But that doesn't answer my question."

Hidan looked away, "Only if you have something to eat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 綺麗な - Beautiful, 残酷 - Cruel, 世界 - World, 一人で - Alone
> 
> I hope I did Oka's first time seeing the sun justice.


	25. A Man Named Haruto - Part 3

"We're wide awake now,

Our eyes are wide open,

We're runnin' this world,

We're keepin' it turnin',

We're living like giants."

-GIANTS, Lollia

* * *

The sun was too low for me to see it.

The blue sky gave way to yellow orange. The soft colors of daytime fought to stay, to bathe the world in a few more minutes of pretty light, but the darkness crept up anyway. The clouds darkened with streaks of black, and orange swallowed the last of the day.

A curtain of dark blue followed it, and then I could see the moon, a glowing beacon hanging up there in the dark. Twinkles of light peppered the sky around it, a million glowing dots that there weren't enough clouds to obscure.

"We're alone, right?" Yahiko asked.

"You keep asking me that," Naga replied.

"Spare an old man's heart, will you?"

They sat in a loose circle below me. A hole had been dug in the ground between them, surrounded by rocks and filled with logs and branches. I kept my eyes on the sky.

"Old man?" Konan scoffed.

"Deep inside, Konan," Yahiko said. "Deep inside."

"We're alone," Naga confirmed.

A pause, then I saw a flash of red in the dark. Yahiko made the tiger seal with one hand, breathing fire onto the wood. He stopped and the fire flickered on its own, growing brighter and licking at the sky.

Hidan stared at it with wide eyes. "How the fuck did you do that?"

Konan frowned at him. "You weren't taught about—?"

"It's because I'm a super powerful shinobi," Yahiko interrupted. He grinned and held up a hand, sparks appearing on the tips of his fingertips. "I'm the strongest member of the Akatsuki. That's why I'm the leader."

"You're the leader because you're the loudest," Konan said sweetly, taking a bite out of a ration bar.

Yahiko clenched his hand and the flames went out. "You always have to take the wind out of my sails."

"You didn't know what sails _were_ until two days ago."

"Case in point."

"Fucking explain it already," Hidan demanded.

Naga held a stick with rabbit meat on it over the fire.

"How could I not after you asked so nicely?" Yahiko drawled. "I pushed a thin layer of chakra around the outside of my fingers to protect them, and then I channeled fire-natured chakra to my hands..." he trailed off when he saw Hidan's frown.

Yahiko leaned back. "Explain what chakra is to him, Konan."

"Fuck you. I know what chakra is," Hidan grumbled.

"What?" she spluttered. "Why me?"

"Because I told you to."

"My ass," she said back.

Yahiko shook his head. "You hear this, Nagato?" he asked in mock disbelief. "Right in front of Oka."

Naga didn't look up.

"If she was going to start cursing, she would've _already_ ," Konan responded. "She's had plenty of influence."

"Don't ignore me, assholes," Hidan groused.

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "If we pretend not to hear him maybe he'll stop."

" _Fuck_ you!"

"Do you know what elemental chakra is?" Naga asked, spinning the meat in a circle.

Hidan didn't answer right away. "No," he eventually admitted.

Naga looked between Yahiko and Konan.

"You do it." Yahiko looked at her.

"You're useless," Konan said back.

"I can make it up to you," he told her, grin wide and mischievous. "We can take a nice, quiet walk through the woods later if you want—"

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shut up," she hissed.

Yahiko laughed so hard he had to bend forward to catch his breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" Hidan asked.

"Hey, Naga?" I asked as Konan turned red and pushed him over.

"Hm?"

"What are those called?" I pointed up at the lights in the sky.

Naga followed my gaze. He looked sad. "Stars. You can see them in Amegakure, sometimes."

" _I've_ never seen them in the village."

"The conditions have to be right," he explained. He handed Hidan the stick of meat, distracting him. "It's usually too cloudy, but if you keep looking, night after night, you'll see them up there one day."

I hummed.

"When we bring back the sun, you'll see them every night. I promise."

**心臓**

"So, do you _have_ to curse all the time?" Yahiko asked, hands laced behind his head.

"Eat shit," Hidan answered.

Yahiko nodded. "Is it a condition that runs in the family or...?"

Hidan glared at him.

Yahiko sidestepped a kick and kept walking. "I think we need to find you a hobby, Hidan. Have you ever tried origami?"

"We _need_ to teach you to move quietly," Konan mused. "Otherwise you'll never get him."

Yahiko stopped and I looked up.

A cart was overturned on the path in front of us. A deep gouge ran along the side, the back wheels sliced in two. Sacks and boxes were ripped and broken all over the road.

"Anyone?" Yahiko signed, half-turning back.

"What the hell are you doing with your hands?" Hidan asked.

"No," Naga signed back.

Konan shook her head.

Yahiko faced forward and started walking again. "Have you ever tried fishing, Hidan?"

.

.

.

The fields on either side of the road were charred and blackened.

Ash and soot crackled under my feet. I stopped at the edge of the road and crouched, making out rows and rows of neat, orderly lines that had been carefully plowed in the dirt, burned so badly there was nothing left but black.

_Was this a wheat field?_

I sniffed, but I didn't smell smoke. Grass broke apart in my hand.

This happened a long time ago.

I could only vaguely make out Suisai up ahead. The general shapes of buildings, a big gate that was missing pieces at the top.

I straightened, brushing ash off my feet.

Naga was crouched opposite of me, pushing aside dirt and dead crops, looking for something salvageable beneath.

Konan, grimacing, stood up ahead with Yahiko, who'd stopped to wait for us. "You think whoever did this attacked the town?"

Yahiko shook his head. "If they wanted that, they would've started in Suisai, not all the way out here." He stopped and blinked at something behind me, tilting his head.

I turned.

Hidan stood back, palms pressed hard against his eyes, trembling.

I remembered the field I found him on. The cut throats, the empty, dull eyes. It was red, not black, but in both places, everything was dead.

Hidan hunched over, shaking harder. I watched him grind his teeth as tears dripped from his chin.

I wiped my hands on my pants and walked over until I stood in front of him. He didn't notice me.

_What should I do?_

I reached out, faltering right before my fingers touched him.

Hidan didn't want me to pat his shoulder and tell him it would all be okay. Ruffling his hair would make it worse. Acknowledging the tears he was trying so hard to hide would make this worse.

I lowered my hand and wondered if this was why Yahiko didn't come over to talk to Hidan himself.

Maybe he didn't have the right words either.

I released a long breath. Then I poked his shoulder.

Hidan batted my hand off him, angling his body away from me. He was crying so hard his nose was running. "Fuck you," he said. His voice cracked.

"Your face is dumb," I informed him.

Hidan's head jerked up, eyes shooting open.

"You have a stupid face," I said again.

"Weak," Namekuji quietly critiqued, somewhere around the back of my neck.

"What did you just say?"

I crossed my arms. "Did you go deaf too?"

"Still a baby insult, but better," Namekuji approved.

Hidan stared at me. " _What the fuck did you just say?"_

"And—" I faltered.

"Tell him he looks like he was thrown down a set of stairs as a baby," Namekuji suggested.

"What if he doesn't know what stairs are?" I signed.

Hidan's fists clenched. He looked furious, but his eyes were dry. "What the fucking shit are you saying about me?"

"Sometimes I think you're hopeless," Namekuji responded.

I leaned forward. "I signed that you look like you were thrown down stairs as a baby."

Hidan's pupils shrank. He sucked in, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not my fault you're too _stupid_ to understand."

"Quick study," Namekuji praised. "Keep it up and I might teach you some new swear words—"

Hidan charged at me, yelling in rage.

"Tell him he smells like you."

I caught his wrist as he threw a punch, yanked him towards me, and drove my knee into his stomach.

Hidan choked and gagged but wrapped both arms around my leg and held tight.

"I'm busy," I signed, trying to shake him off.

Hidan dug his fingers in.

"Tell him purple is a stupid color for eyes," Namekuji said.

I hissed, grabbed a handful of his hair, and jerked his head back.

"You bitch," Hidan gasped, eyes shut tight.

I freed one hand to sign at Namekuji, "You could help me."

"Could," Namekuji agreed.

I squeezed harder, shaking his head, but he refused to be moved.

"Shit stain," he raved. "Fuck face. Bitch fart!"

I was going to have bruises again.

Hidan jerked his head forward and bit me.

" _Ow_ ," I planted my trapped foot on the ground and kicked him as hard as I could with the other one. " _You're_ the piece of—"

"Oka," Naga cut me off sharply.

"See, Hidan?" Yahiko asked. "This is why we need to find you a hobby." He stepped around me, grabbed the back of Hidan's shirt, and _pulled_.

Hidan, unmoved, glared up at him. "I'm busy, shit for brains. Wait your fucking turn."

Yahiko sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Alright, you've forced my hand." He wrapped both arms around Hidan.

"What the fuck—" He burst into forced laughter. His eyes shot open and he abandoned my leg to shove at Yahiko's hands. "Stop—" he gasped. "You piece of—" he laughed, kicking and straining in Yahiko's hold. "—fucking _ass_."

I stumbled back. My upper leg was red.

Naga grabbed my arms, turned me, and pulled my leg closer to inspect the bite. "Was this planned too?" he murmured, only slightly chastising.

"I should've hit him harder before he bit me," I answered.

Naga let out a huff of a laugh. "Did you at least accomplish whatever you were trying to do?"

I glanced at Hidan. He managed to escape Yahiko and sat on the ground a few feet away, both arms wrapped around his stomach.

Yahiko waggled his fingers. "I don't want to have to use my ultimate jutsu on you again," he said. "Be a good boy and take up knitting."

"Fuck off," he shot back, but he was grinning, despite himself.

**ビート**

I traced a hand up along the black marks burned into the side of a pillar.

The gate was bigger up close. It was brown-orange, a hole where the arches were supposed to connect. A cracked sign was face down on the road. The pillar opposite of me had only been scorched in a ring around the bottom.

My fingers were black when I pulled them back.

"Headband," Yahiko said, holding a hand out.

Hidan looked at the appendage. "Why the fuck would I give it to you?"

"Because we're here for a mission. The people here need to see us as the Akatsuki. If they see your headband, they'll think we're from Yugakure, and we won't get any credit," he explained, shaking his head. "I get enough of that back home."

Hidan frowned. He reached up, fingers ghosting over the symbol in the middle for a second before he ripped it off and stuffed it in his pocket. "Still not letting _your_ shitty ass have it."

"As long as you keep it out of sight," Yahiko drawled, lacing his hands behind his head. He passed under the gate. "Who wants to bet on how long it'll take for Hidan to scare our client away?"

He didn't react as Hidan punched his back.

The grass on the other side of the gate was wilder, uneven, and dark green, popping up in patches along the road and growing out from underneath the buildings around us.

"As soon as Hidan opens his mouth," Konan answered. "And if I'm right, you have to clean up after Namekuji for a week."

Yahiko blinked. "Wait, hold on—"

"And you can't ask anyone for help," she interrupted him, smiling.

A sign that read 'supplies' hung lopsided on a broken chain pinned to a small, square building on my left. Boards covered the entrance of a shop to my right. I saw eyes peering out at us through the gaps, people peeking out of doorways before they ducked out of sight.

"It was a _metaphorical_ bet," Yahiko said.

"He has to wash all the slime off the walls too," Naga added.

A flash of dark fingers as a man looked out at us from an alleyway.

I hummed.

Yahiko looked back at him solemnly. "It feels like I don't have any friends, sometimes."

"It's only fair," Konan said back. "You're always changing the rules if something doesn't go your way."

"All lies."

"Where the fuck are we going, anyway?" Hidan asked, pinky in his ear.

"I don't know," Yahiko answered happily.

Hidan stared at his back.

"We've never been here before," Naga admitted, sheepish. "We don't know where the client lives."

"We don't even know what the client _looks_ like, because Yahiko was too excited and dragged us all the way out here without a plan," Konan added.

"I didn't hear you objecting back in Amegakure," Yahiko said. "In fact, I seem to remember you being on my side."

"You're the shittiest shinobi I've ever met," Hidan cut in.

Konan opened her mouth to respond when her eyes suddenly snapped to the right. A girl with pink hair stood in front of a closed shop, arms crossed, staring at us with narrowed eyes.

"Civilian," Naga murmured.

"Water-natured," Konan quietly added.

She pushed off the wall and came closer. She was taller than me, but shorter than Konan. "You're shinobi, right?"

"That we are," Yahiko answered. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone named Haruto, would you?"

Her purple skirt was an upside-down shirt. The sleeves had been made into pockets, the bottom cut apart. She was thin, all sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes. Her gaze was steely.

She looked at us for a few seconds, then turned around. "Follow me," she said, and didn't look back.

Yahiko went after her her without hesitation.

"She was waiting for us," Naga said quietly.

Konan frowned. "And if we're walking into a trap?"

"Then I blame you and Nagato," Yahiko drawled.

"Bet that girl is out of her range by now," Namekuji mumbled.

I shushed him.

**メトロノーム**

"Why is your hair fucking pink?"

Konan sucked in through her teeth, shooting Hidan a warning look.

He responded with his middle finger.

"I don't know," the girl answered, monotone. "Why are your eyes purple?"

Hidan looked stunned.

"I like her," Namekuji said. "Let's take her back with us."

"You can't just _take_ people," I murmured.

"Says you."

"You got something to say about my fucking—"

Yahiko half-turned back, wiggled his fingers, and Hidan stopped talking.

The girl led us past an abandoned inn and up a short set of stairs, lined by a rickety fence.

I felt eyes on my back, but when I looked no one was there. More than once I heard quick footsteps as someone ran away.

I faced forward. "If everyone else is scared of us, why aren't you?"

She stopped on the top step. "Because that's stupid," she said, keeping her back to us. "You're shinobi. We're not. It doesn't help anything to hide, and it wouldn't stop you from finding us if you really wanted to. But you didn't come here to attack or steal from us. You walked in here like the tourists that used to come here in the summer. Lost. Lazy. You talked openly."

"It could've been a trick," Yahiko pointed out.

"Maybe during peacetime," she said. "We don't have anything worth tricking us over, anymore."

She kept walking.

.

.

.

She brought us to a tan building with a red, triangle-shaped roof. The paint was chipped, peeling off in thin curls. A word was written on the door in stark black paint.

"What does that say?" I asked Naga.

"'Traitor,'" it was Hidan who answered.

"Thanks," I chirped.

Hidan stared at me, and it made me wonder if he'd ever been thanked for anything before. He crossed his arms and looked away. "Fuck off," he grumbled.

A row of identical houses stretched all the way down on either side of the path. Yahiko looked curiously at a door a few houses down with the same word painted sloppily on it. The door on the house next to it was faded, but unmarked.

The girl knocked twice, waited, and knocked again.

Slowly, the door rattled open. A man poked his head out, his hair the same bright shade of pink. His forehead was creased, and he had frown lines around his mouth. His eyes shot up to us and went wide.

"Hanako," he hissed. "What have you done?"

"Someone had to do something," she shot back. "So, I _did_ something."

"You must be Haruto," Yahiko guessed.

He stiffened, bowing hastily. "We have no need of your services," he said quickly. He grabbed Hanako's arm, but she shook herself free.

"You have no idea who these people are—"

Naga stiffened. He suddenly pressed both hands against Yahiko's back and shoved him forward into the house.

Haruto yanked Hanako against him and out of the way.

Naga had my hand in his before I could look at him, the other clamped around Hidan's collar, ignoring his yelling and cursing as he pulled us inside with him.

Konan quickly shut the door as Hidan shoved Naga's hands off him.

Two short gray couches faced each other in the middle of the room, taking up most of the space. There was a fridge against the back wall and bowls on the floor. A short staircase was next to it, leading up and out of sight.

Haruto had backed up to the wall, shielding Hanako with his body. There was a spark of fear when he saw the red on my pants, the stains that lingered even after Yahiko doused me with water the day before.

"How many?" Konan asked.

"One," Naga answered. "I don't think they're shinobi, but they were coming this way fast. I didn't think it was a coincidence."

Hanako wiggled in his grip, but Haruto only held her tighter, watching, waiting.

I faced him and crossed my arms. The floorboards creaked. "The Akatsuki doesn't hurt people."

"She's right," Yahiko agreed, and Haruto's eyes shot to him. "I'm Yahiko," he introduced, grinning. He sat on a couch. "That's Konan—" he pointed. "—Nagato, Oka, and Hidan, our newest member. We came here to help."

"I never said I was joining your shit group," Hidan hissed.

Haruto stared at him.

"Why'd you come if you don't want to join?" I asked.

"Fuck you," Hidan answered, crossing his arms right back at me.

I sighed at him.

"Ignore that," Yahiko said, waving a dismissive hand at Hidan. "I'm working on him, but, y'know, we can't _really_ help you or anyone else if we don't know what's going on."

Haruto released Hanako. He looked tired. "I don't know how much Hanako offered, but we can't pay you," he said. "There's nothing I could offer that would be worth the trouble."

"The money isn't important."

Haruto looked at him. "We have nothing to trade," he said again. "No wheat, lavender, or whatever you believe is hidden here. Neither I nor anyone else has any food to spare, and the inn is closed. What would you gain by helping us?"

Yahiko leaned forward and smiled, elbows on his knees. "Peace," he answered. "We can feed ourselves, and we don't mind sleeping on the floor. What I _want_ is to make a world without war, where kids aren't sent out to die, where wheat fields aren't burned and towns left to starve just to stop anyone else from being able to use them."

Haruto's eyes widened.

"But that's a long-term goal," Yahiko said. "Right now, I want to show people that there are shinobi still out there fighting to help and make things better. And we're starting right here."

"That's a fools dream," Haruto eventually replied.

Yahiko shrugged. "Then I'm a fool."

Haruto stared at him for another moment. He sat across from him. "How old are you?"

"Don't let my baby face fool you," Yahiko said. He winked. "I'm an old man on the inside."

"Fire-natured," Konan said quietly, eyes on the door.

"Somewhere between shinobi and civilian," Naga amended.

Haruto crossed his arms. "And you're all shinobi?"

"Let's say we've been training for a long time," Yahiko drawled, an arm over the back of the couch.

"Rouge-nin?"

Yahiko squinted. "No?"

Haruto paused.

"This is some boring shit," Hidan muttered, scratching at a scab on his arm.

"You see, we're not technically shinobi," Yahiko said. "If you were never 'nin' in the first place, can you still go rouge?"

Haruto looked alarmed. "You're civilians?"

"We were born in Amegakure—"

"No I fucking wasn't," Hidan interrupted.

" _Most of us_ ," Konan corrected, glaring at him. "We were trained as shinobi, but our village doesn't have an Academy, and we were never given ranks."

"It's just faster to say we are," Yahiko explained. "So, no, we're technically not rouge-nin."

"We technically _are_ ," Konan pointed out, leaning on the back of his couch.

"That's the beauty of technicalities," Yahiko drawled. "I can ignore the other side of them."

Haruto closed his eyes. He didn't speak for a few seconds.

"After the Second World War, the daimyo appointed an adviser of his as Chief of our town. Kunihiro Abhuraya. He came with his son, Ren," he began. "Not only are we allies of Konohagakure, but we kept them fed through the last war. We used to see a lot of foreign shinobi through here during the spring and summer. So, it was only a matter of time after Chief Naoki died that a plant would be put here to watch the town. Nothing we could do about it."

He frowned. "Abhuraya, well, let's just say he wasn't used to being one of the people instead of being waited on by them. Still, we managed. Nothing really changed, even when war rolled around again. When Kumogakure razed our fields though..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "There was no money coming in from trade, and no tourists coming through to help us tank the hit. Abhuraya was the only one with the power to do something about it, but he didn't. While we starved, he hoarded the last of the wheat that was supposed to be taken to Konohagakure and hid in his palace like a coward."

"That's awful," Konan murmured.

Haruto didn't look up. "We tried to get rid of him ourselves. Formed a group of those still strong enough to fight and take back what was ours. We made it to the door when Abhuraya offered to share _our_ food with us and our families if we stood down and protected him from everyone else. Two-thirds of our group agreed to do it. The rest of us were called traitors and Abhuraya made it easy for his followers to identify us."

"If he'd given us any time to unite the rest of the town against him, we still could've overtaken him. So, he brought in someone from the outside. You used to be able to see his palace from outside of town, but its disappeared. Every time we sent someone to look for it, they got turned around somehow."

Konan's eyes lit up. "Genjutsu?"

"I don't know what it is."

"Do you know anything about them?" Yahiko asked.

"No, Abhuraya's been keeping them away from us," Haruto sighed. "Either way, I've given up on all that now. My wife—she's ill. The stress of everything took its toll on her. And I wanted to keep Hanako away from all this. She's already lost enough because I couldn't leave this whole thing alone."

Konan hesitated, "You don't think—"

"No," Haruto sharply cut her off. "Abhuraya's a coward, but he uses money and power to bring people to his side. He wouldn't—" he stopped, shaking his head. "My wife's been sick for a long time."

Naga was looking at the ceiling. "Is she upstairs?"

Haruto frowned. "I don't want her involved," he said gruffly. "That means no questioning her or telling her about what Hanako's done."

"I'm a medic-nin," Naga explained, tying his hair back. "Can I see her?"

Haruto's frown deepened.

"Either you trust our ability as shinobi, or you don't," Yahiko said.

Haruto closed his eyes and stood. "She's in a bad way," he murmured. "The only medicine we have is what we can make ourselves."

Naga smiled. "I can still help her."

Haruto stared at him for a moment, then motioned for Naga to follow him upstairs.

Hanako had her back to them, arms full of a furry creature. Its back legs and tail were black, its face white with black fur circling the eyes. It was staring at me.

Namekuji made a displeased noise. I didn't think I'd ever be able to wash all the slime out of my scarf.

"What?" I asked.

"It's staring at me," he complained.

The creature sniffed the air in my direction. "What is it?"

"A summon."

"Ooh."

"No 'ooh'," Namekuji sniped. "It disgusts me."

"Mean."

"What the shit is that and why is it talking to you?" Hidan asked.

I realized then that Namekuji moved to the top of my head and I didn't notice. "Namekuji," I answered, pulling him off. I only needed one hand to hold him. "He's Naga's summon."

"That's a stupid fucking nickname."

"When he's _your_ brother you can change it."

"No one likes a smartass."

"I was the one who told Oka to tell you that you look like you were thrown down a set of stairs as a baby," Namekuji said happily. "And that you hit your face on every step on the way down."

Hidan stared at Namekuji for a few seconds, unblinking. He looked back at me. "Tell your shitty worm to shut the fuck up."

"Toilet breath doesn't think I can understand him," Namekuji said. "How precious."

Hidan's face reddened.

Hanako came closer and I put Namekuji back on my head.

"It's not often that Kuu shows any interest in strangers," she murmured. Kuu was weaving between her shoulders, occasionally stopping to stare down at Namekuji.

"Maybe you and Kuu could be friends," I signed behind my back.

" _Ugh_."

"I'm sorry," Hidan blurted out. He looked away when we looked at him, crossing his arms. "I mean about your shi—about your mom."

Hanako lifted a shoulder. "I don't remember a time when she wasn't sick, so it's fine."

"Why?" I asked.

Hidan blinked at me.

"Why are you sorry?" I clarified.

_Why are you sorry when you didn't do anything?_

Hidan stared. Then, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"People get sick all the time," I answered, defensive. "Are you sorry for them too?"

Hanako was giving me a strange look too.

I looked at them, and I felt like there was an invisible, impassible barrier between them and me. I suddenly felt alone.

_Why didn't they see it like I did?_

"Better question," Namekuji interjected, looking at Hidan. "Why does your face look like you ran into a wall? Repeatedly."

"No one gave you permission to talk, piece of shit," Hidan shouted.

"Ouch," Namekuji deadpanned.

Hidan fumed, but Hanako was still giving me a strange look.

"What kind of animal is it?" I asked, eyes on Kuu.

_What was wrong with what I said?_

Finally, Hanako looked down. "Kuu's a ferret. He helped bring all of you here," she said. "I snuck a message to Konohagakure through him, between letters for my aunt. I sent one to Sunagakure and Kusagakure too, but you guys are the only ones who responded."

I hummed.

" _You_ look like a little bitch," Hidan roared.

"How much ryo do you have on you?" Namekuji asked.

Hidan blinked. "What?"

"Clearly, I need to teach you better insults. I won't do it for free."

Hidan turned a red that was almost purple.

I chose not to point out that Namekuji neither needed money, nor could spend it anywhere.

"Motherfucker—"

Hanako's eyebrows shot up.

Yahiko turned around on the couch. "I'm really comfortable right now," he interrupted Hidan. "Don't make me get up."

"Lazy," Konan teased, poking his cheek.

"Raising a kid is tiring work, Konan," Yahiko said. "You wouldn't understand."

Ignoring Hidan's death glare, I refocused on Hanako. "How does he carry messages?"

"He eats them," Hanako answered. "Kuu doesn't need to eat like we need to. His stomach is like a pouch."

"Why do you exist?" Namekuji asked Kuu in mild horror.

Hanako looked at him curiously.

"He likes to eat like we do," I explained. "Bugs, mostly."

"Fat ass," Hidan spat.

"You made me get up."

A shadow rose up behind Hidan. He barely began to spin when Yahiko grabbed him. Hidan cursed and punched and shouted as he was tickled, but he mostly laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 心臓 - Heart, ビート - Beat, メトロノーム - Metronome


	26. A Man Named Haruto - Part 4

"In the moment I was born, I wouldn't stop screaming,

Saying that I wanted to fade away and disappear.

Every since the day I stopped I had always been searching,

For the one I'd someday meet,

For the you that has to leave."

-Eine Kleine, rachie

* * *

"What's the verdict?" Yahiko asked, hands laced behind his head.

An old oil lamp flickered with orange light from the floor, casting moving shadows on the walls.

"Metastatic tumors," Naga muttered. He sat across from Yahiko, hands steepled under his chin, staring at the lamp. "The oldest mass I found was in the epithelium lining, but it spread to her mediastinal lymph nodes."

Yahiko blinked once. " _I_ understood that, but if you could use smaller words for Oka and Hidan..."

Hidan, sitting on the floor, leaned forward and mouthed curses at him.

Naga's lips twitched up. "She has tumors in her lungs. A lot of them," he explained. "She hasn't been able to breathe properly for years, and that's caused damage to her organs."

Yahiko considered this. "How long will it take to fix her?"

"I don't know," Naga admitted. "A while. I need to remove the tumors in sections. Her kidneys won't be able to take the strain if I don't heal them at the same time."

"So, about two days?"

"It'll be almost impossible to keep her breathing at the same time."

Yahiko paused. "Two and a half days?"

Naga looked back at the lamp. He didn't smile. "I've never done anything like this before," he said quietly.

"Could we help?" Konan asked, next to Yahiko.

Naga shook his head. "Too delicate."

"Doesn't matter if you don't think you can. You still have to try," I said, sitting on the arm of Naga's couch. I swung my legs, watching the shadows dance and twist. "You said you would always help."

I felt three sets of eyes on my back, but I didn't turn around.

The couch squeaked as Naga stood.

"How long can she hold on?" Konan asked.

"I don't know," Naga answered, the unspoken 'why' hanging in the air.

"You and me should scout out the area around the genjutsu. I don't expect it to be complex, since it was made to trick civilians, but I still want to look at it. If you can sense through it, we'll know how many people we're up against."

"I can't," Naga said. "I have to clean the room, try to make it as sterile as I can. That is, if you want me done in two and a half days."

Yahiko grinned, and I thought I caught a ghost of a smile as Naga climbed the steps.

"Nagato couldn't be the one to go, anyway," Yahiko said, tilting his head Konan's way. "He's not subtle enough. If they have anyone who can feel chakra even a little, they'll be able to tell he's a shinobi."

"In other words, you want us to go in blind," Konan deadpanned.

"I don't think there's any other shinobi," Yahiko said. "Even if Suisai had the money to hire one, which they don't, what shinobi would come out here in the middle of a war to handle a civilian problem?"

Konan frowned. "But Haruto said Abhuraya brought in a genjutsu user."

"He did," Yahiko agreed.

"I didn't sense that he was lying."

"Because he doesn't think it's a lie," Yahiko said. "They can't be a rouge-nin. Even if Abhuraya has a secret stash of ryo somewhere, he has no way of contacting one. Why would they stay here when Konohagakure is only half a day's walk away?"

He shook his head. "If the daimyo is as important as Haruto made them sound, Abhuraya would be throwing whatever status he has away if he brought in foreign shinobi."

Konan's eyes widened. "You think the genjutsu user was always here?"

Yahiko looked at the ceiling. "Haruto said Abhuraya had a son, remember?"

"Ren," Konan breathed.

"Abhuraya didn't have to bring in someone from the outside. He already had a genjutsu user with him the whole time."

"You can't be sure he's a civilian."

Yahiko smiled a little. "Why would Abhuraya need to bribe Haruto's former friends if he wasn't?"

Konan sat back, knuckles pressed to her mouth. "You and I should go. I still want to test the strength of the genjutsu, and if Ren is a sensory-type, he won't notice you."

"There goes my confidence."

"We should go before sunrise," Konan murmured. "Then we can decide where's best to enter."

"Oka and Hidan will go."

Konan stared at him.

"Hidan will fucking _what_?"

"Our clients are sleeping upstairs, Hidan," Yahiko said serenely.

"Why the shit should I care—"

Yahiko sat up and Hidan mouthed the rest at him.

"Why?" Konan asked.

"Because they're kids," Yahiko answered, and I slowly turned around. I stopped swinging my legs.

He held up a placating hand. "People will _see them_ as kids," he amended quickly, before I could leap at him. "You won't know how the genjutsu works until you're close enough to be sensed. If Abhuraya's men can see us, but we can't see them, then we lose the chance to take them by surprise. If we stick around for too long, the people on this side will get suspicious. We're not exactly subtle either, Konan." He ran a hand through his hair.

Konan glanced at Hidan. "His hair is gray."

Yahiko laughed a little. "Yeah, but they're still growing. It'll be easier for them," he said. "People will give them the benefit of the doubt or make excuses for them, just because they're smaller. We don't need to know how strong the genjutsu is—"

"I _do_ ," Konan said.

"Because as long as we know that Ren's a civilian, you can break it," he continued. "We only need to know what the outside of the palace looks like, and the entry points. Oka can do that."

"And Hidan?"

"She shouldn't go alone," Yahiko reasoned.

"You just want a break."

"Speaking of break," Yahiko began. "Remember that bet we made earlier—"

"Those two things don't have anything to do with each other."

"—I won," he finished.

Konan crossed her arms and smiled. "And yet you never said what would happen if you won."

"I—What?"

"Nagato and I said that you would clean up after Namekuji," she pointed out. "What did you say we would have to do?"

Yahiko stared blankly at her.

"Too bad," Konan said sweetly.

"I never got the chance."

"Sounds like a _you_ problem."

Yahiko stood, walked over to a small window, and stared out of it, contemplative. He didn't speak for a long time. "You'll leave in the morning, Oka," he said gravely. "It defeats the purpose if you go now."

Konan covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

**熱**

The stairs creaked as I walked upstairs, bending a little in the middle.

I saw Haruto first, on the floor next to the bed.

A stump of a candle in a bowl on a nightstand, the light barely enough to see by.

The bed in the middle of the room was bigger than any I'd ever seen, and the woman in the middle took up so little of it. Her hair was a wispy brown, spread out all over the pillow tucked under her head.

Naga pulled a blanket off her, folded it, and put it on the floor.

I stepped closer and saw Hanako, curled up at the foot of the bed, hugging Kuu tight to her chest.

_Why did a room with so many people feel so cold?_

I stopped next to my brother, looking down at the thin skeleton on the bed. It didn't look like she was breathing.

She wore a nightdress too big for her, plain and cream.

I'd seen a lot of sick or hurt people before, but this...

_She looks dead._

I pulled Namekuji off my head and held him out to Naga. "I don't know if he'll be able to help, 'cause he's so small," I said quietly. "But you always have him with you when you heal people."

Namekuji stared at the woman. I knew it was bad because he didn't say anything.

Naga paused for half a second, then accepted Namekuji. He put him down on her chest. "Tell me if her heart rhythm changes," he murmured.

"I know you can do it," I said, looking up at him.

Naga's smile was small. "I'll try."

**ヘイズ**

I stood at the window, watching the sun come up again.

I couldn't see much of it. Yellow and pink in the distance, the gradual lightening of the sky. There were so many colors.

"I hate that bastard," Hidan said.

He sat next to me, his back against the wall. I followed his glare to Yahiko, who was stretched out, face down on the floor close to the rightmost couch.

"That's okay." I looked back out the window.

Hidan frowned. "You're so fucking _weird_."

"Want to watch the sun with me?"

Hidan stared. "What part of that made your shit brain think I wanted to watch the fucking sun?"

I shrugged. "It's pretty. I thought maybe you'd want to look at something pretty too."

Hidan was speechless. "Your whole family is full of bitches."

I glanced back, as if assessing his statement. Konan was asleep on the couch above Yahiko, hair in her face, her mouth open. I didn't really know what 'bitches' meant, and I knew no one would explain if I asked. "Maybe," I said anyway.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Sometimes."

"Your parents are cocksuckers."

"Mama and papa died when I was little," I told him, and watched him draw back, eyes wide. "I don't really remember them."

Hidan swallowed hard, eyes on the floor. "I didn't ask for your shitty sob story," he muttered.

I tilted my head. "It's not a 'sob story'. It's the truth."

Hidan didn't seem to know what to say to that.

I sat next to him and crossed my legs. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad."

"I don't," he hissed. "Talking to you is like talking to shit. I don't know why I fucking bother."

But he didn't move away.

.

.

.

"The lavender field used to be west of town, but that's gone now too," Hanako said. "We used to have a festival in the spring to honor Inari and celebrate the wheat harvest, and one in the summer for the lavender."

I followed her down a white-bricked path, wire-fences on either side. I left my cloak back at her house.

"What kind of shitty name is Inari?" Hidan asked, hands in his pockets.

"It's—" she paused, glancing back. "Inari is a god we believe in. Some think that our fields were burned because we didn't have any festivals this year, and so didn't have Inari's protection."

"Or Inari didn't give a shit and wouldn't have protected your shitty fields anyway."

I heard Hanako's breath hitch, but I didn't try to stop Hidan. He would only get louder.

"Where you're from, do they believe in gods?" Hanako asked, her voice carefully level.

"I don't fucking know," Hidan answered, pulling his hands out. "But _I_ don't. It sounds fucking dumb."

Hanako glanced back at me.

"I don't know what a god is," I admitted.

Her eyes widened a fraction. "A god is..." she trailed off. "They created the world and divided it between themselves. They have the power to manipulate the world however they want. Inari can encourage our crops grow and flourish or push them to wither and die."

I hummed. "Do _you_ believe Inari let them burn your fields?"

"No! I think it was outside Inari's control," she answered. "People should be blamed, not Inari."

"Fucking crazy," Hidan said under his breath.

Hanako's fists clenched at her side, but she didn't turn around. She stopped. "Keep going forward. You'll run into it." She ducked into an alley and disappeared before I could respond.

"You scared her away," I accused Hidan.

"So fucking what?" he asked. "We're not supposed to be seen with her close to the shit anyway."

I stared at him. He stared back at me.

I sighed, loud and exaggerated, but headed forward again.

.

.

.

One second I was walking and the next I faced the opposite way, staring back the way we came from. I stopped.

"What the fuck?"

The path was there, the fence was the same, but we were somehow facing the wrong way.

"What the _shit_ happened?" Hidan demanded.

I turned around. I wasn't supposed to break the genjutsu, but maybe I could recognize it. "Let's go back this way," I chirped loudly, giving Hidan my fakest smile.

He stared at me for a moment and seemed to understand. He grumbled but turned around.

The second time was a lot like the first. We walked for a shorter time than before, and then we were back at the start. Except I thought I felt...

A hint of something. A brief, subtle buzz of chakra across my skin.

"Did you feel that?" I asked.

Hidan looked bewildered. "Feel fucking _what_?"

Then again, Hidan hadn't been trained by Mamoru-sensei.

I shrugged. "Maybe I imagined it. Come on."

The third time I was sure I felt it. Chakra spread thin, but not thin enough to be missed by anyone with even a little experience with genjutsu.

Hidan looked disoriented. "This is messing with my fucking head," he complained.

"Maybe this way," I said, walking forward. I slipped through a gap in the fence, walked through a patch of tall, wild grass between two buildings, and came out on the other side on another white-bricked path.

There were trinkets lining this one, presents addressed to Inari.

It led straight to the genjutsu too.

"Why the fuck," Hidan said and didn't finish.

It was in case we were being watched. If we kept turning around and hitting the genjutsu at the same spot, no one would believe it was by accident.

I didn't answer though. I only smiled and gestured for him to follow me.

The fourth time I felt the exact moment I walked through it and ended up on the other side.

The fifth time I slowed, letting Hidan go first, and I saw through the illusion. I saw it when he was tricked into thinking he was going backwards. He turned around, never breaking stride, eyes foggy. I felt the seams when I stepped through, shaking off the attempt to make me believe I'd imagined Hidan's vacant expression.

Hidan dropped to the ground, head between his legs. "How the shit isn't this making you sick?" he gasped.

If I knew for sure that we were alone, I might've answered. "Maybe we should go home."

"Fuck that and fuck _you_ ," Hidan spat, just like I thought he would.

The sixth time, I knew how to go through without breaking it.

It was as easy as making yourself believe you were going the right way, even if everything inside screamed that you weren't. It was harder in practice.

The seventh time, Hidan clutched his stomach and cursed me out when I suggested taking a break. It made him want to keep going to spite me.

The eighth time, I stepped into it, steeled myself, and kept walking 'backward'. My legs told me that I had somehow turned myself around, my eyes showed me the path and the fence. I felt off-balance. My stomach twisted, but I grabbed Hidan's arm and kept walking.

And then the palace was there as if it had always been. I stared up and up at it. It had three floors, with a roof on each, sloped and curved in ways I'd never seen before.

A man stepped in front of me. He was taller than Yahiko. Wider, too.

He looked down at us, and I saw confusion in his eyes. I saw his concerned, perturbed frown as he looked between the invisible wall and us. There was barely any suspicion at all.

I remembered what Yahiko said. What we looked like to him.

Children. Hidan's clothes were cleaner, but my shirt was thin and old, held together by red thread and my own refusal to wear anything else.

If he thought we were shinobi, he wouldn't have stopped to stare at us. He looked us like we were civilians, so he didn't see that Hidan was tense beside me. He brushed off the fact that I didn't have the body of one, because I was little to him.

If Yahiko came in my place, he would've been 'little' too.

I let it go.

I channeled Konan and pointed at the palace, smiling until it hurt. "We found it," I told Hidan excitedly, ignoring the man. "I _told you_ it was here."

The man crouched. His nose was crooked, broken and reset too many times. "You were looking for the palace? How did you get past the barrier?"

He wouldn't have asked if he knew how it worked.

He sounded curious, his stance relaxed. Maybe he thought we were war refugees, maybe he just didn't know every single kid that lived in Suisai. Either way, the suspicion was gone.

Before I could answer, Hidan stumbled forward and threw up on his legs.

The man jerked back, but not fast enough. The bottom of his pants and shoes had taken the brunt of it and were forever ruined. I pinched my nose, looking away, and patted Hidan's back supportively.

He cursed at me even as he coughed and spit.

The man looked disgusted, but forced his eyes back to us. "You might not know what you've done, but I need you to walk me through exactly what you did and felt when you—"

"You fucking bitch," Hidan gasped, shaking me off.

The man blinked. "Pardon?"

"I said you're a fucking bitch."

The man seemed at a loss.

"I fucking _hate_ —" Hidan stopped himself, and I knew he would've said genjutsu. "—you. I hate your stupid, fucked up nose."

The man looked at me, as if I would be able to explain Hidan. "We kept getting lost," I said. "But I knew it was the right way, because Hanako said so."

I didn't doubt that _someone_ had seen us with Hanako.

Hidan pointed at me. "Shut the fuck up," he said, wiping a hand across his mouth. He turned back to the man. "We don't owe you shit. Fuck you and your questions."

The man's eyes narrowed at me. "Hanako?" he asked. "How do you know her?"

"I'm going to hurl directly into your face next," Hidan promised.

The man, looking suddenly alarmed, took a step back. "Hanako told you to come here?" he asked again, only looking at me.

"Don't ignore me, you titfuck."

I tapped my chin. "She didn't _tell_ us. We made a bet. I knew the palace was here, but _he_ said it wasn't. Hanako was on my side. She said that if we went this way, we would find it."

The man frowned. "You shouldn't have listened to Hanako. Chief Abhuraya is doing extremely important work within the palace, and curiosity isn't an excuse—"

Hidan made a gagging sound, covered his mouth, and locked eyes with the man.

The man sucked in through his teeth, eyes flashing down to his pants. He stepped forward, quickly took us by the shoulders, and steered us back toward the 'wall'.

"Chief Abhuraya doesn't want to be disturbed," the man said sternly, hastily. "If you come back, I'll have to tell both your parents and Hanako's father."

He gave us a little push and then we were back through. He and the palace were gone.

Hidan dropped his hand and groaned.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I feel like shit," he answered. "Just fuck _off_."

I thought about it. Instead I took him by the arm and pulled him after me. He let me.

**ボーッ**

Haruto sat halfway up the stairs, watching us through the rails. His back was against the wall, legs awkwardly stretched out. He had deep bags under his eyes.

Right after Hidan and I left, Naga kicked him and Hanako out of the room.

I leaned over an unrolled scroll, drawing the palace in wobbly black streaks with my pointer finger. A container of black ink sat on the floor next to my knee.

Hidan sat under the window, a dirty-looking cup between his legs. Steam wafted from the top.

Hanako made it for him to help his stomach.

He muttered about how bad it smelled even as he sipped from it.

The bottom floor of the palace was a big rectangle, the middle floor a square on top of it, and the top floor a small box. I dipped my finger in the ink, ignoring the thick brush that sat next to it, and drew little sideways rectangles for windows. There had been two on the bottom floor next to each other, two spaced apart in the middle, and one on the highest floor.

The bottom windows came out smudged and bled into each other, but the top was passable.

"Are they big enough to fit through?" Konan asked, leaning down, pointing at the highest window.

"No," I answered absently, struggling to draw the intricate roof designs from memory.

"And you didn't see a door?"

I shook my head. The bottom floor 'roof' looked more like wavy lines cutting through the corners of the building.

" _Yes_ ," Hidan objected. He picked up his tea, came closer, and sat across from me. He gave the drawing a quick once-over. "So _shitty_."

I sniffed. "Better than you."

"Fucking _no_."

Yahiko, holding a cup of hot water, blinked down at him.

"I'm _barely_ using any curse words," Hidan shouted. "You don't have to take it out on _me_ just because you've got a giant stick up your ass—"

"Where was the door, Hidan?" Konan asked loudly, cutting him off.

Hidan stared at Yahiko. He kept eye contact as he shoved his thumb in the container, splashing ink on the floor. The sides of the scroll bled black.

Yahiko was expressionless. "You're cleaning that up."

"Fuck if I am," Hidan scoffed. He leaned down and reached over me, ignoring my attempts to add tiny shingles to the middle roof. He drew a wiggly, upside-down rectangle in the blank space, close to the bottom floor.

"Would he mellow out if he picked up drawing, you think?" Yahiko asked Konan.

"Not a chance."

"I didn't see a door," I said, giving up on the roof. It looked like one big dark stain.

"That fat ass was in the way," Hidan told me, drawing a _thing_ at the top. It had the head of a person and the body of an animal, with too many legs and a lot of teeth. "But _I_ saw it."

"You're completely sure?" Konan asked.

Hidan looked at her. He picked up his cup, chugged it, then burped at her.

Konan leaned away, nose wrinkling. She waved a hand back and forth. " _Why_?"

"Konan will go in through the top floor," Yahiko decided. He ignored Hidan sticking out his tongue, focused on the scroll. "I'll handle the middle floor. Oka and Hidan can take the bottom."

Konan shook her head. "And, of course, I get the hardest job."

"That's where I'd put Ren, if I was Abhuraya," he reasoned.

"Along with the strongest people he could find to protect him," she said.

Yahiko smiled. "If you don't think you can do it, you can always ask for help."

"If anyone here needs help, it's _you_ —"

"Why the fuck did you want to know where the door was if you weren't going to fucking _use it_?" Hidan asked. His palm was splattered with black. The container was on its side.

"I considered using it," Yahiko answered, stroking his chin. "But we don't know enough about the inside. If we all go in the same way, we give Abhuraya a chance to escape through a hidden passage or hide in some secret room behind the walls. Plus, I like to have all the details before deciding on a plan."

" _I_ asked him about the door," Konan pointed out.

"Details." Yahiko said, waving a dismissive hand.

"You _already_ knew what we would do the second Oka finished drawing," Konan deadpanned. "You weren't going to change it, no matter what he said."

Yahiko took a long drink from his cup. "We leave at dawn," he said airily.

"Why wait?" it was Hanako who asked, her back to us, washing a shirt in the sink.

"Because he's a show-off," Konan answered.

"It's already late afternoon," Yahiko said, ignoring her. "People need to see us when we go, and know it was us when we come back. I only have one chance to do this right. I don't know how long it'll take if we start now."

I stared up at the window, at the light spilling into the room, at the way everything touched by it was vibrant. Tomorrow then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 熱 - Heat, ヘイズ - Haze, ボーッ - Daze
> 
> I forgot to post today. Aha my bad.


	27. A Man Named Haruto - Part 5

"If they were my eyes, such red eyes,

I wonder could I,

Be their one and only hero,

Who saves their future?"

-Ayano's Theory of Happiness, rachie

* * *

I felt eyes on me when I stepped outside.

Konan's eyes flicked to the right. "Civilian," she signed.

The sky wasn't dark, but it wasn't quite light either. I looked up at the clouds, dark-gray in the pre-dawn light, and I wondered how I could ever get used to being without the sun again.

"Abhuraya?" Yahiko signed back.

"No. A civilian. I felt them before, on the first day."

Yahiko nodded, tilting his head back. "You know, I dreamt of this when I was little," he said. "Being strong enough to help people. Strong enough to show them that peace was possible. I always wanted to be someone others could believe in."

Konan took his hand, twining her fingers through his. "What step are we on now?"

Yahiko laughed. "One-hundred and thirty-seven."

"I thought this was one-hundred and thirty-eight," she teased.

Yahiko grinned at her like she told him the world was his and I heard her breath catch.

I looked at them, two of the people I loved most, and I thought I would do anything to keep Konan looking so happy. I would give everything to make sure Yahiko had the world.

The deepest, darkest pit in the world didn't stand a chance against Yahiko's smile.

.

.

.

Konan stood ahead of us in the genjutsu.

More people were watching, lurking behind fences or hidden in the dark. They didn't know what we were doing, but they knew it was something different, something _important._

Yahiko's grin had only gotten wider.

Konan made the dispelling seal and the illusion broke. An invisible, destructive wave pulsed from her body, tearing the genjutsu down in an invisible outward wave. Holes appeared all over, revealing more and more of the palace until it was completely visible again.

The walls were a pristine white, the roof dark gray.

I heard gasps and murmurs. Hidan was watching it fall apart with wide eyes.

Konan looked up at the palace. Paper wings sprouted from her back. She took flight, the lower half of her body peeling into a whirlwind of paper as she sailed for the top floor.

I looked back and saw shocked eyes, fingers pointing up at her.

Yahiko darted forward, and I spotted the man from the day before. He stood on the white-bricked path between us and the palace, staring up, his expression slack. Slowly, he looked down and locked eyes with me.

He flinched back as Yahiko leapt over him, flipping to land feet-first on the wall of the bottom floor. He didn't look back as he ran up the side to the middle, made a quick one-handed sign, and blew a hole in the wall with a concentrated blast of water.

He swung himself inside and disappeared.

I stepped forward and noticed I was alone.

Hidan stood back behind me, holding a kunai in a white-knuckled grip. He didn't look so much like a beast like this.

He looked like a little kid, one who couldn't curse away a fight, who had the horror of war in his eyes but not the experience to stop his hands from shaking.

But there _was_ something there. A wildness born on the field I found him on, hidden deep under his sloppy stance, his hesitance, how poorly he'd been trained. I saw it myself.

But this...

_We should've left you at Hanako's house._

But we hadn't, we couldn't. He was more stubborn than I was, determined to do the opposite of what was told to him out of spite. He would've come anyway.

I wondered if this was why Yahiko paired us together. If he knew that Hidan would freeze up. If he knew I wouldn't.

It was easier to protect him if I knew where he was.

I didn't have Namekuji, but—

"Coward," I said, and he focused on me. Anger burned through fear, hesitance replaced by the fierce desire to make me eat my words.

I refocused on the man as Hidan cursed at me. He looked conflicted, eyebrows pinched, trying to fit the image of the 'little kid' with the me in an Akatsuki cloak.

I spun a kunai out of my pocket, pointed it at him, and smiled.

I saw a flash of orange out of the corner of my eye. I had a split second to register the fireball, the other man standing on the grass—muscled and shorter—and then the fireball was sailing towards me, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

People yelled, screamed, ran for cover.

I dropped to my knees and slammed both hands on the ground. A wall of earth broke through the path, shooting up northeast in front of me. The fireball slammed into it, and I felt the wave of heat, the flames licking at the sides of the wall.

I saw Hidan squinting through the bright red light, a hand thrown up to protect his eyes.

The wall didn't budge, and it didn't melt.

I flipped through one-handed signs before the fireball dissipated and wisps of earth rose up in front of me through the cracks, tangling together until I was staring at a copy of myself.

Hidan ducked down beside me, frowning deeply. He threw his kunai point-first into the dirt. He was lost in a battle of ninjutsu, and he knew it.

He didn't want to be babied, so I didn't comfort him.

I slipped my kunai back into my pocket. My clone stood and darted out from behind the wall. I made the snake sign.

"I'll be right back," I said, and held my breath. My body suddenly felt as heavy as stone. The ground broke apart under me and I fell, forcing a path through rocks and dirt with my chakra and will.

It felt a lot like being underwater, except it wasn't a slow descent. I fell fast, minerals and pebbles grating against the layer of earth chakra I'd pulled over myself like a coat.

I saw Hidan lean over the hole I left behind, and then I couldn't see anything at all. I let go of some of the chakra around me, and my body felt lighter, falling more slowly, cushioned by the dirt instead of tearing through it.

Mamoru-sensei always said I released too much.

I shut my eyes. I focused on the soft, crumbly feeling of dirt between my fingers, pushing away thoughts of the battle, of the palace, of Hidan. I concentrated on the darkness around me and slowly pushed chakra out of my body, letting it seep into the earth around me.

I let the tendrils of my chakra take the place of my sense of touch. I aimed my newfound senses upwards and felt a subtle tremor, a wave of vibrations echoing down from the surface. It was my clone. She was making her footsteps heavy on purpose, giving me something to latch onto.

She was moving fast, and I remembered what I wanted her to do—

The vibrations became harder to feel, and I narrowed my eyes.

I never used Headhunter in a fight that wasn't for practice before.

I felt more, softer vibrations coming from where I left Hidan, and I dismissed them as the watchers from before. Louder vibrations, closer to where my clone was. The man with the fire chakra. I opened my eyes.

I twisted my body, carving a path towards his vibrations. I moved my arms and legs like I was swimming, though the way I used my chakra was more like water-walking.

Keep enough chakra around my body so I stayed in place and didn't sink. Change the flow of the chakra around my hands and feet so I could break and push aside dirt. It was like being able to reach underwater while standing on the surface.

The vibrations were quieter, slipping through my fingers the longer I stopped trying to listen to them, but I didn't really need them anymore. I released more of my earth cloak and 'swam' up, knowing the man with fire chakra was above me.

My hand broke through the surface and I pulled myself up behind him. Light and sound filtered back in, and I couldn't feel the vibrations anymore.

My clone's kick clumsily blocked. She was suspended in the air for a moment, and I saw a flash of a grin before she burst into mud.

The man cursed and stumbled back, swiping at his eyes.

I gripped a kunai and stabbed it deep into the back of his knee.

He cried out as his leg buckled, and I stepped neatly out of the way as he fell backwards. He was breathing hard, and I watched him grasp at his leg, turning wide eyes onto me as I pulled out a second kunai.

He underestimated me and put everything he had into the fireball. But that was okay.

I flipped the kunai so I held it by the sharp end and hit him once in the head. A hard, solid _whack_. His head snapped to the side and he dropped.

I felt a sharp prick and, opening my hand, I found a cut in the middle. I tried not to hit him too hard.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Hidan asked.

I lowered my hand as he stepped closer, planting a foot on the man's side like he was a footrest.

"Because..." I trailed off.

_Because it would make Naga sad._

"Because it's wrong," I finally said.

Hidan stared at me. "I don't fucking get you."

I shrugged because he wouldn't understand. He didn't know about Usagi or Naga's sad eyes or what happened in Shikkotsu. I glanced back at the other man, still standing on the path. Hidan, eyes narrowing at him, lowered his foot.

I took a deep breath and raised my voice, "Why pick Abhuraya if you don't want to fight?"

He grimaced. "You wouldn't get it," he answered gruffly. "My wife and little boys—they were starving. Abhuraya gave me the means to keep them fed, so I took it."

_Wouldn't I?_

I nudged the unconscious man with my foot. "And he doesn't have a family?"

The man frowned and didn't answer. I wondered if it was because he didn't know, or if he still saw me as a little kid, despite what I'd done.

"Fuck him," Hidan quipped. "He's a piece of shit anyway." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned his back on the man.

_Mercy._

Did everyone deserve it? Or just the people that weren't all bad? Was anyone 'all-bad'?

Yahiko showed mercy to those Iwagakure shinobi when he didn't have to. Even though they wouldn't have shown us mercy if we were them.

Maybe the man with the crooked nose wasn't doing anything to help Abhuraya, but he didn't do anything to stop him either, had he? Did someone who would stand back and watch his town starve in the name of protecting his family deserve mercy?

I glanced down at the man with fire chakra.

Did either of them?

Did _any_ of them?

I looked back at my earth wall. I couldn't see any of the civilians, but that didn't matter. Yahiko wanted to be seen. He didn't want us to be killers. But I didn't have to kill to have hands stained red.

I still remembered the way the blood and soot stuck to my hands when I searched my first body for weapons.

So then, what did mercy mean to me?

Not Yahiko's version of mercy. Not Naga's. Mine.

I stared at the man, and I wondered if he'd still be alive if the mission had been put in my hands.

A hand snagged my sleeve, pulling me forward, and I found myself looking at Hidan's back.

"Fucking asshole," he grumbled in explanation.

Hidan never looked back. He dragged me around to the right side of the palace, where a large set of double doors loomed above us, darker red than the roof. A fox was painted on both sides of the wall in gold.

He shoved me toward the doors, crossed his arms, and looked pointedly away when I glanced back.

I smiled anyway. "Thank—"

" _Fuck_ your shit," Hidan loudly interrupted me. "I don't want to hear your mouth."

My smile widened, but I obliged and didn't finish. I spun back to the doors, pressed both hands against the smooth wood, and pushed until they glided open.

The floor was a sleek, shiny tan. Water dripped out from under the door and onto the grass. Men and women were lying in different positions on the ground. They didn't move. A dark red pillar in the middle of the room had a chunk carved out of the middle.

Yahiko, standing in front of a staircase, grinned when I saw him. He spun a shuriken around his pointer finger. "What took you so long?"

Pieces of round, broken lanterns were scattered across the floor and in puddles of water. A large painting of the ocean was in torn bits on the back wall.

I pointed at Hidan and he squawked.

" _You bitch_ ," he hissed. He pointed his finger right back at me. "It was because _she_ decided to stand around staring into fucking _space_ like the shit tart she is."

Yahiko, nodding thoughtfully, looked at me for a rebuttal.

I dropped my hand and pretended like he didn't speak. "Where's Konan?"

"You _cuck fuck_ ," Hidan said.

"It's rude to point," I sniffed.

Hidan attempted to point harder.

"Upstairs," Yahiko answered, looking around the room. "It took you so long to get here that I could've made it to Amegakure and back and still had time to go fishing after."

" _Bitch_ ," Hidan spat at me.

I kept my eyes on Yahiko. "I thought you trying to make him curse less."

"It's a long-term goal," he agreed.

" _Fuck_ ," Hidan said.

"You're doing a bad job," I informed him.

Yahiko stroked his chin. "I really do think he should take up knitting."

"Not in your shittiest dreams."

Yahiko returned the shuriken to his pouch and gestured for us to follow him upstairs. "Have you ever tried meditating, Hidan?"

"You should tickle him," I suggested.

"Fuck _you_ and _him_."

Yahiko shook his head. "I'm an old man with frail old man bones," he lamented. "My super ultimate technique takes a toll on me every time I use it. I'll pull a muscle."

I smiled. "You can just say you're out of chakra and tired."

Yahiko paused, looking back at me. "I seem to _distinctly_ remember telling you not to become like Konan," he said. "And I'm _not_ out of chakra."

"I don't."

The middle floor was made up of straw-colored mats. Screens separated the room we came up in from the rest of the floor. Some had holes in the middle, others embedded with shuriken. A foot was sticking through a tear.

I saw clouds from the hole Yahiko made in the wall.

Konan stood in front of a screen, standing over someone in a dark blue robe. His hair was silky and black, long strands falling across his shoulders. He was pale, his fingers long and slender.

Konan half-turned and smiled. "Guys, this is Ren," she introduced, gesturing to him. "I think he should take over as the next Chief."

Ren looked up at her, eyes wide. His cheeks were sunken, his lips cracked and bleeding.

Yahiko looked him up and down, tapping his chin. "Sure."

"That's not a decision for you to make," Ren sputtered, voice soft.

He shook as he pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the screen behind him. A black belt was tied around his middle, the edges gold. His robe pooled around his feet.

"Didn't you come here to _stop_ this jackass?" Hidan asked absently, pinky in his ear.

"We came here to stop Kunihiro Abhuraya," Konan corrected. "And we did."

"My father hasn't agreed to step down," Ren pointed out.

"He doesn't have to," Konan said. She walked over to the hole in the wall and gestured down. "You don't have the strength to put the wall back up. Your dad's supporters, well—" she gave the foot sticking out of the screen a glance. "They can't help him. He doesn't have anything left to stop the people here from _forcing_ him out."

I stepped up to the edge of the hole and looked out. A handful of people were gathered below, whispering and pointing up at us. Two people knelt next to the man with fire chakra, tying his hands behind his back with strips of wire.

A girl standing near the back, younger than me with a gap-toothed smile, threw up her hands and cheered.

My eyes widened. No one ever cheered for us before. Not even in Amegakure.

Ren, through sheer force of will, dragged himself closer. He peered out, chest heaving, sweat beading down his face. He looked down at the crowd and frowned. "Why would they accept me?" he asked. "I'm as, if not more, guilty."

Konan smiled. "For one, we'll vouch for you," she said. "And if you feel guilty, don't you think you owe it to the people here to try and make up for what you did?"

Ren stared at her. "And if I don't _want_ the position you're trying to force me into?"

"Then they can decide how to punish you. Or," her smile widened. "You could leave. You can abandon all the people you hurt, the town _your_ father ran into the ground. You could be a coward just like him."

Ren's eyes flashed to hers.

They stared at each other. Neither spoke.

Yahiko appeared from behind a screen at the far end of the room, a small man tucked under his arm. Abhuraya. His hair was short and black, streaked through with gray. He was wearing an identical robe to Ren, except with more gold.

Ren frowned. He stepped towards them and his legs gave out. He fell to his knees, clinging to the wall to keep himself upright.

Yahiko gestured to Abhuraya with his free hand. "You can release the genjutsu," he said to Konan. "I think once he realizes that he's lost, he won't try anything."

Konan shook her head. "He will," she said. "It's better we keep him like that for now. I didn't check him for weapons."

"You know, my reflexes are better than yours—"

"Please," Ren choked out. He was on his hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor. "I know he can't be easily forgiven, but he's still my father. Please be gentle with him."

"We won't hurt him," Konan promised.

With that she tilted her head back, let the sun hit her face, and tipped backwards. She dropped down a few feet, her cloak flapping wildly before paper wings opened at her back and she righted herself.

"How the fuck?" Hidan asked.

"Always the show-off," Yahiko said at the same time, shaking his head.

"What will they do to my father?" Ren asked, never lifting his head.

"I couldn't tell you," Yahiko answered lightly. "That's not part of our mission."

Ren's fingers curled. "And if it was?" he asked. "What would you do if you were one of the people here?"

Yahiko looked out at the sky. "I'd need more information," he eventually said. "We know as much as we need to about you and your father, but _not_ enough to understand why it turned out like this from your side," he paused, catching the surprise in Ren's eyes. He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head.

"I know that wouldn't matter to most people, but I'm going to be the leader of my village one day and making decisions just on how I feel will get the people I care about killed. So, I'm working on seeing everything from both sides. I'd need to talk to my friends about it too..." he trailed off, looking thoughtful.

I wondered if he would ask me what I thought. I wondered even more what I would say.

_Did Abhuraya deserve mercy?_

People backed away as Konan floated down, forming a half-circle around her. They looked at her like she was something otherworldly.

Ren was looking at Yahiko differently, too. "Why does your friend want me to be Chief? Do you know?"

"Because she saw something in you," Yahiko answered, half-shrugging. "I don't know what, but I know there's a reason you're not under her genjutsu." Adjusting Abhuraya in his grip, he headed for the stairs.

"Fucking finally. I thought you'd never shut up," Hidan said, following him.

"I think I have just enough energy to use my super ultimate technique after all," Yahiko drawled, footsteps fading.

Ren collapsed back against the corner of the wall, looking out over the town. "I never wanted any of this," he admitted quietly to himself.

"Too bad."

Ren's head jerked my way.

I turned away from him, searching for words in the shapes the clouds made. I thought I saw a raindrop.

"They deserve better," I said. I glanced down at the people of Suisai. Some were on their knees in front of Konan, while others had closed the gap, talking too quietly for me to hear, hands clasped. "Abhuraya kept taking and _taking_ from them when they needed his help the most. It wasn't their fault they couldn't grow food or people don't come here anymore, but you punished them like it was."

I looked at Ren and he drew back, burned by the fire in my eyes.

"Punished? My father—he never—"

"I used to be so hungry it felt like I was dying," I interrupted him. "I was too little to understand how I felt back then. But now I know it felt like I was being punished just for being alive."

_Did I have it in me to be merciful?_

Yahiko stepped out into the open and allowed them to take Abhuraya from him. Konan made the dispelling seal behind her back.

"Haruto told us Abhuraya made him choose between the town or being able to eat and, when he picked the town, all his friends went away. Did he lie?"

Ren frowned and didn't answer. It was enough of one.

People stepped forward to shake Yahiko's hand or bow to him. Abhuraya, looking around wildly, was louder than the crowd as his hands were tied behind his back.

I flexed my fingers. I could kill Ren and he would deserve it.

_What was my own version of mercy?_

Ren was the reason we were here. He kept Abhuraya safe at the cost of everyone else.

He turned his gaze back down to the growing crowd. "I wasn't aware that that's what starvation felt like," he said quietly. "I don't deny my part in this. But, don't you have people you love so much you'd do anything for? Even give up your own life?"

"I would feed everyone," I said heatedly.

Ren's smile was faint. "That wasn't what I asked."

"I wouldn't—" the words caught in my throat.

_Would I choose Amegakure over Naga?_

It was easy to _say_ I would. Easy to _think_ that if I had to choose between my brother's life and the lives of everyone in Amegakure, I could make that choice. But what I _felt_ was reluctance.

"You and your leader were right about some things," Ren said absently. "I asked you to be kind to my father, but I never tried to see the situation from _your_ perspective."

Maybe in a life-or-death situation, I wouldn't choose Amegakure over my brother but—

"I wouldn't let anyone starve," I said firmly, sitting on the ledge next to him. "Because I know what it's like."

I could see shock on the faces of the people below as they stared up at the palace, touched my wall, or looked at the stretch of burned grass.

"Part of me still wants to protect my father," Ren admitted, watching him be led away. "But when my illusion was broken, I knew I couldn't anymore. I stood no chance against your friend."

I hummed. "Did you get hurt?"

Ren tilted his head back. "That would be the easier explanation but no, I wasn't. The genjutsu I used—it was never meant for this. I learned it to entertain the daimyo and his guests," he explained. "It was never supposed to be spread over such a wide area. I didn't have the reserves to maintain it for more than a day, but I forced myself to keep it up. I lost consciousness more than once."

I looked at him, at the stark veins I could see through his pale skin. "You would've died."

Ren looked out again and didn't speak for a few seconds. "I've never met the people here," he admitted. "I arrived with my father, but we kept our distance. I never saw myself as a someone _living here_ until your friend barged into my room and threatened my father."

"Now you can," I said, turning a little more towards him. "You can do better for them."

"What did she see in me?" Ren murmured.

I swung my legs. "You could go and ask her."

"I... can't move," he admitted.

"I could knock you off," I offered.

Ren looked at me, unsure if I was joking. "I don't think that would help," he said tentatively.

I smiled. " _Someone_ down there would catch you."

"I would be very embarrassed to die that way."

"You won't _die_ —"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hidan asked, sauntering over, hands in his pockets.

"Where were _you_?" I asked back at him, gesturing down.

"None of your fucking business."

I smiled. "You came back up because the crowd made you nervous," I guessed.

Hidan's face went red. "You talk a lot of shit for someone _up here_."

"I was talking to Ren."

Hidan looked over, as if noticing him for the first time.

Ren hesitated. "We met a few minutes ago—"

"Shut the fuck up," Hidan cut him off. He squeezed in next to me, pushing and shoving until I moved over.

Ren blinked.

"If I wanted to hear shit, I'd go find a toilet," he added.

Ren blinked a second time.

"Ew."

"What? You'd rather I shit right here?" he asked.

"The fall is longer than it looks," I chirped.

"Oh, fuck right off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Originally, Ren had a very minor role.


	28. A Man Named Haruto - Part 6

"If I could change the way that you see yourself,

You wouldn't wonder why you hear,

'They don't deserve you'"

-everything I wanted, Billie Eilish

* * *

The sun was higher in the sky than when we left. Not in the middle, but not at the bottom either.

My shirt clung to my skin. I pulled off my cloak as I sat in front of the window and draped it over my shoulders. I could stare at the sun all day.

Haruto looked between me and Yahiko in disbelief. "You've done it? Already?"

Yahiko stopped in the entryway, grinning, hands laced behind his head. "I told you not to fall for my baby face."

Haruto stared at him. He didn't blink.

Yahiko plopped down on a couch and stretched his arms above his head. "Man, I'm exhausted," he said. "I almost think I prefer the reaction we get back home."

Kuu leapt from the floor to the back of the couch, then dropped down in front of Hidan. He rolled over, wiggling his body back and forth. The fur in his middle was white and thin, and I could see traces of pink skin underneath.

"What the hell do _you_ want?" Hidan murmured. He crouched and scratched Kuu's stomach.

Kuu made a happy chittering noise at him.

I wondered if he ate chakra like Namekuji, or if he lived on the paper and ink from the stuff he delivered.

"What the _fuck_ are you looking at?" Hidan asked.

He stared at me, eyes narrowed to slits, and I politely averted my eyes.

"You took care of the genjutsu user?" Haruto asked. He stood in the same spot as before.

Hanako was curled up in a ball on the stairs, asleep.

Yahiko stretched out on the couch and used a rolled-up blanket as a pillow. "Abhuraya never hired anyone," he answered. "It was Ren the whole time."

"Ren?" Haruto repeated. He frowned. "It couldn't have been. Only a shinobi could've kept the... 'illusion' up for as long as he did. Ren never would've let us get as close to the palace as we did if he was a shinobi."

"He's a civilian," Yahiko agreed.

Haruto's frown deepened.

"Ren loves Abhuraya," I cut in, turning to face him. "That's how he did it. He ran out of chakra, but he didn't care 'cause he wanted to keep the person he cared about the most safe. The genjutsu would've come down anyway, 'cause Ren would've died."

Haruto looked at me for a moment, then closed the door. "Where is he now?"

"At the palace," Yahiko answered. "Konan stayed behind so the people here would give him a chance. She wants him to be Chief."

Haruto went still. "After all they did—" he broke off with a sigh and sat heavily on the couch across from Yahiko. "Suisai might be ours again, but it'll never go back to the way it was before this. Abhuraya turned neighbors into enemies, turned people desperate and selfish, made parents choose which child should be fed and which should go hungry to save a little food." He shook his head. "If Abhuraya and Ren aren't killed, they'll be run out of town."

"You make a good point. That's why I want _you_ to be Ren's advisor."

Haruto's eyes snapped up to his.

Yahiko looked at the ceiling. "What do you think would happen if someone with enough power to put Abhuraya here and with influence over Konohagakure found out that foreign shinobi were brought here to force Abhuraya to step down, or the people here killed him?"

Haruto's eyes went wide.

"We didn't come here to make Suisai and Konohagakure enemies," he continued. " _I_ didn't know that there was a daimyo until you talked about him. And I don't think Hanako _really_ knew what she was doing when she contacted Amegakure for help. But what we did and didn't know doesn't change how this _looks_."

"Ren is the only one who can be Chief. The daimyo won't look too closely into what happened with him in charge. Everyone here _has_ to believe in him because he's the only one who can keep the peace," Yahiko said.

Haruto scrubbed a hand down his face. "This is a mess."

Hidan sat back against the couch, Kuu in his lap.

I looked away before he caught me peeking, wiping a smile away with the back of my hand.

"Not as big of one as you think," Yahiko said. "If you become Ren's advisor, everyone will take him more seriously."

Haruto leaned back. "What makes you think I have that much influence?"

"Because of what you said when you told us about Abhuraya," Yahiko answered. "You kept saying 'we' and 'us' when you talked about trying to overthrow him, but you said _you_ gave up. So why did everyone else give up too?"

Haruto stared at him.

Yahiko laughed. "You know, my sensei back home gives me that _same_ look."

"You should let Ren try," I said firmly, pushing myself up. "You won't know if he's a good or bad leader if he never tries."

Haruto slowly shook his head. He stood. "When I'm able to see my wife again—that's when I'll make a decision." He turned away and walked upstairs.

**絞り**

The door at the top of the staircase was open.

It smelled like blood and rot and death.

It was an awful, familiar smell.

Haruto stood at the bottom, an arm covering his mouth and nose. Hanako ducked away from her father, a hand over her mouth, and I heard quick footsteps and the sound of her retching.

Hidan was asleep behind the couch. Even if he weren't, I didn't think the smell would make him sick. Maybe sad.

Wax spilled out of the bowl on the nightstand and was in dried clumps down the side. A freshly lit candle sat on the floor next to the bed, and another was half-melted next to a thick bag stained red and filled with lumpy shapes.

It was the source of the rotting smell.

Naga was curled up on the floor by the back wall. His hands and wrists were a deep, flaking red. A scarlet stain was on one side of his shirt, and there was blood on his neck and face. He didn't move when Yahiko knelt in front of him.

"I never want to do that again," he murmured, almost too quiet for me to hear.

Yahiko reached forward and pulled Naga's arm around his shoulder, forcing him to sit up. "Let's get you out of here."

"Let me sleep," Naga protested.

"What kind of a best friend would I be if I left you in a room that smells worse than Konan on a good day?" He shot Naga a smile as he dragged him up.

"A good one," Naga groaned.

"You're exhausted right now, so I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

I stepped closer to the bed, my feet sticking to the floor.

Yahiko carried Naga to the door, an arm tight around his side.

The bed sheets were so red they were almost black.

Thick white bandages were wrapped around the woman's chest and stomach. Older ones and torn strips of sheet circled parts of her arms and legs.

I could hear the rattle of air in her lungs as she inhaled. Her chest rose and fell in fitful spurts.

Her skin was pale, her body smaller than I remembered, but she looked _alive._

I smiled. It took three days.

"Where's Namekuji?" I asked.

He would've been with Naga if he was here, but I still wanted to ask, just in case.

Yahiko paused, but Naga was limp, sagging in his hold. "Can't say I'm surprised this took too much chakra to keep him here," Yahiko eventually said.

I hummed, watching the woman for another second before I followed them out.

Haruto was halfway up, hope and fear warring for dominance in his eyes. "Is she—" he couldn't finish. "How is she?"

"Well, I'm no medic-nin," Yahiko began. "But Nagato wouldn't have stopped until he was sure she could survive without him. She won't die."

Haruto's inhale was shaky. He dropped his hand, bowed low, and rushed up the stairs past us.

On the bottom floor, blue-white light stretched across the floor in front of the window. The moon was a full circle.

Yahiko put Naga down on a couch and I pushed his feet up. "No offense to Nagato," he began, rubbing his shoulder. "But _I_ never want to carry dead weight down a staircase again. I think I pulled a muscle."

"He isn't _that_ heavy," I protested on his behalf.

"This coming from the one who watched," he said, shaking his head. "Never even ask if I needed help. I almost tripped. Twice."

I pointed to the other couch and ignored him. "You should put Hidan there."

Yahiko peered down at Hidan, splayed out on the floor. "But he looks so comfortable."

I lowered my hand. "Then _you_ can listen to him complain all day tomorrow about being sore."

Yahiko considered this. He bent and picked Hidan up without another word.

Hidan grumbled, twisting in his grip and swatting at Yahiko's face, but never opened his eyes.

Hanako sat in the corner opposite of the staircase, legs pulled up to her chin. She'd taken off her shirt and tied it around the lower half of her face, leaving her only in an undershirt and cloth pants that were too big for her.

I could see wet lines down her cheeks when I got close. She smelled vaguely like vomit, but I didn't see it on her clothes. Kuu rubbed his head against her leg.

"Why are you crying?" I asked.

Hanako shuddered as she looked up. "How can you stand it?" she asked back, muffled. "I know you're a shinobi but this... it smells so bad. And it's _everywhere._ "

I inhaled, but the only smell that bothered me was the vomit. I wrinkled my nose.

Hanako searched my face. "Nagato was in that room for _three days_. I can't imagine how horrible it must've been." Her voice shook.

I sat in front of her. " _That_ smell doesn't bother me, and it wouldn't bother him either. Intestines smell worse," I said. " _I_ don't like the smell of throw up."

Hanako averted her gaze, and I realized she'd been looking for something to connect to, some small understanding of how she felt. But I couldn't even give her that.

I wanted to laugh.

_Dead bodies smell really bad, Hanako. Didn't you know?_

Hanako was brave and she was smart. It was because of her that we were here, after all. But she didn't really understand shinobi. If she did, there never would've been a scroll for Kota to steal.

Hanako tucked her head between her knees. "She's dead, isn't she?" she asked quietly.

"Nope."

She looked up, surprised. "But—" she looked at the staircase. "The smell—"

"Dead bodies don't smell like that," I said. "Not if she _just_ died, anyway."

Hanako shuddered again. She wouldn't meet my eyes and I did laugh that time, a soft little sound that made her swallow hard.

_Didn't you know that bodies left out for a few days smell the worst, Hanako?_

We completed our mission and did what she wanted, but I knew we'd never be friends.

It made me a little sad.

Hanako stood quickly, scooping Kuu up. "I'm going to go see her then," she told me. She walked off before I could respond, cleaning her face with her shirt. I twisted around, watching her take the stairs two at a time.

"You'll never get along with civilians this way," Yahiko drawled. He stood closer, looking out the window, hands in his pockets.

"Maybe I don't want to," I chirped.

He glanced down. "Even real-life wolves know how to play nice with other animals when they want to."

"I tried," I said with a shrug. "I like Hanako. But we could only be friends if I pretend to be someone I'm not. I _was_ nice at first, but it made her look at me weird anyway."

"You'd make a _really_ bad diplomat," he mused.

"What's a diplomat?"

Yahiko didn't answer right away. "Me, I guess."

"Someone who wants peace?"

"Wouldn't that be an ideal world?" he drawled.

"Someone who wants to be a god?"

I wondered if Hanako's version of a god was the same kind he wanted to be.

He smiled at that. "The short answer is that a diplomat is someone who can talk enemies into becoming allies or talk people into giving them what they want."

"But I don't want anything," I said.

"Everyone wants something."

"I want what you want."

"You sure about that?" he asked. He crouched, elbows on his knees. "What if I said I hated apples and wanted all apple trees burned to the ground?"

I frowned. "You _don't._ "

He grinned. "I do. I woke up an apple-hater today. I can't help it."

I turned away from him. "Maybe not _everything_ you want," I conceded.

His grin widened and he sat back, looking back at the window. "If we got rid of all the clouds back home but kept the rain, would the moon still look like this, you think?"

"I thought you wanted to stop the rain."

He laughed a little. "I do. I will. But maybe I miss it a little too."

**ボケ 味**

I heard her before I saw her. The heavy crunch of sandals on gravel, the tiny creaks of a basket swinging back and forth, her slightly uneven breathing.

I brushed my fingers over the word 'traitor', painted in big, blocky letters on a door a few houses down from Haruto's. Someone tried to scrub it off, but the word was only faded at the corners, the wood underneath soft and wet.

She stopped next to me. "Are you Oka?" she asked, reserved and polite.

I looked back. Her hair was cut short by hand, the ends ragged and loose. A basket made of straw hung off her arm and I saw parts of a dark blanket poking out through the holes.

"I am," I confirmed.

She knelt, carefully lowered the basket, and bowed. "We all owe you a great debt. My family especially," she said. "I apologize deeply for all the trouble my husband has caused you. Please forgive us."

I lowered my hand, brushing the ink off on my pants. "Your husband?"

She lowered herself further.

_Was my forgiveness that important?_

"He was at the palace when you captured Abhuraya. He—he used ninjutsu against you," she answered, and I could hear a twinge of nervousness. "Without your intervention, many would have been hurt. He was careless."

The man with fire chakra.

I hummed. "Why are _you_ apologizing?"

Her forehead nearly touched the dirt. "My husband was detained. Along with our former Chief. I don't know where they were taken, but I was told that they won't be allowed to leave until everyone has a say in what should happen to them. That's why I came to you myself."

"You don't sound sorry that he was taken away."

Her fingers curled. "I never expected him to go that far," she quietly admitted. "I reaped the benefits of his arrangement with our former Chief and I... I never tried to stop him. I'll have to live with that shame for the rest of my life, but I _never_ wanted him to attack our people. It shames me even more to think of what could've happened if you didn't stop his attack."

I stared at her.

She'd turned her back on everyone here, just like him. Except she didn't have Ren's excuse of not knowing what it was like, or a _reason_ to do what she did.

She disgusted me.

"I don't _care_ that you're _sorry_ ," I said, fists clenching. "Be _better_."

She tensed but didn't lift her head. "I'm doing all I can," she whispered.

"No, you're _not_ ," I shot back. " _I_ don't live here. Why do you care about _me_ forgiving you?"

"It's you who he targeted, and you who stopped him before he could harm anyone else," she protested.

I frowned. "I still don't forgive you."

She slowly pushed herself up. "I understand," she murmured. She pulled open the lid of the basket and a warm smell wafted out. "I hope you'll accept this gift, regardless." She reached in and held out an uneven, puffy circle the size of her palm.

I eyed it. It smelled faintly sweet. "What is it?"

She looked briefly surprised. "We call it bread," she answered. "I baked them fresh earlier today from the flour I had left. Think of it as a 'thank you'."

I held out my hands and she placed the 'bread' in them. It was rough-feeling and crunched when I pushed down.

She picked up the basket as she stood. "I hope I can be someone worthy of forgiveness to you one day," she said, bowing briefly again. "Perhaps if you visit Suisai again in the future."

She waited, but I wouldn't make a promise I knew I wouldn't keep.

Dipping her head, she turned and left.

I glanced down at the bread and realized that she was the first person I met who didn't treat me like a little kid. The bread was cooler than before, soft on the inside where my thumb poked a hole.

All it was missing were little seeds on top.

I blinked, but the stray thought was gone in an instant.

"Ah, I see you found your first fan," Yahiko said from behind me. He plucked the bread from my hands and took a bite. "You're lucky to only have one."

"It wasn't like that."

He swallowed, eyeing the bread for a moment before he handed it back. "Can't help but notice it tastes a lot like ink and wood," he noted, staring at me.

"Maybe you shouldn't have taken it," I said, taking a bite. It was hard at first, but parts of it were soft and chewy.

"So much _sass_ ," he lamented, shaking his head. "So, if she wasn't your fan, who was she?"

I took another bite. "What does bake mean?"

Yahiko waved his hand. "It was just another way of saying she cooked it."

"She was sorry," I explained. "Her husband threw a fireball at me."

"Oh, yeah. I heard about that," Yahiko said. "You know, none of the people _I_ fought came to _me_ with apologies and food."

"That's 'cause they're all _detained_."

"Are they now?" he mused.

"How's Naga?" I licked my fingers.

"He wants to re-summon Namekuji even though it would put him out of commission for another day. The usual."

**ノイズ**

I was half-awake.

My cheek was squished against Naga's leg, my body curled up next to him on the couch. He'd shifted over to make room, but it wasn't enough. I was getting too tall.

A blanket was around his shoulders, a cup half-filled with lukewarm tea held between his hands.

"Next time, you're staying with Ren," Konan said. She leaned on the back of the couch where Yahiko sat, her cloak draped on the seat.

"We finally had some peace and quiet around here," Yahiko sighed, deep and dramatic. "It was paradise, right, Nagato?"

Naga sipped his tea, hiding his smile behind the rim.

"Say whatever you want, but you know you missed me," Konan said, leaning close.

Yahiko looked up at her, mouth open to retort, but he didn't say anything. He looked away. "Maybe a little."

Ren, hovering in the middle of the room, quietly cleared his throat. "While this discussion is very interesting, I'm sure Konan didn't force me here for this."

He didn't look as pale as the last time I saw him, and his hair was tied low at his back. He wore the same robe though and it looked dirty.

"Who the _fuck_ asked for your opinion?" Hidan asked. He was laying on his back on the floor, Kuu play-fighting his arm.

"Oh, right!" Konan said, ignoring Hidan entirely as she stood. "Ren managed to convince no one to let him be Chief," she cheerily announced.

"Impressive," Yahiko said.

Hidan burst out laughing.

The corner of Ren's mouth turned down for a second before he smoothed out his expression. "The people here don't want me, and they would be right not to," he said. "I told you this."

"He makes long, boring speeches," Konan added. "I think someone fell asleep during one."

"I've only just begun to learn about the customs and practices here," Ren protested. "You cannot expect me to be a speech master in a matter of days." His composure cracked slightly and embarrassment leaked into his voice.

Hidan cackled, kicking his legs. "What a useless piece of shit!"

Ren eyed him. "And yet, you intimidate me the least."

He stopped laughing and sat up. "Want to repeat that, asshole?"

Yahiko leaned on the back of the couch to stare down at Hidan.

"I was talking to the other asshole in the room, but if the shoe fucking fits," he spat.

Yahiko rested his chin on his arm. "I'm _never_ having kids."

"I bet your dick doesn't even fucking _work_ —"

Yahiko threw a kunai. The handle smacked Hidan's forehead and he went down howling.

"Continue," Yahiko said.

"Did I already mention how many words Ren used to say _nothing_?" Konan asked the room.

"Maybe we should move on from Ren's shortcomings," Naga suggested.

Ren looked unhappy.

"His _lack of experience,_ " Naga amended.

Hidan rolled back and forth on the floor, clutching his forehead and shouting curses.

"If we must," Konan said. She spun to face Haruto, who sat on the bottom stair. "Have you decided to be Ren's advisor yet?"

Haruto blinked slowly at her. "People usually have to pay for the play I just witnessed."

"We're a mess, I know, but—"

"I'm not a mess," I murmured.

"You stale piece of dog dick," Hidan yelled. It was unclear who he was addressing.

"Hasn't anyone taught you manners, Konan?" Yahiko asked.

"Don't start _that_ again—"

"You should let me heal you," Naga suggested seriously, looking at Ren. "I don't know exactly what happened, but your chakra isn't circulating the way it should. And the damage to your coils—" he stopped. "I can still fix it."

"No, you can't," Konan said. "I haven't felt you this low in _years._ You _still_ can't summon Namekuji."

Naga stared down at his cup. "It has to be done before his body heals and the damage becomes permanent, and I'm the only one here who can do it."

"No," Ren cut in, and the room went silent. "I chose to do this to myself, knowing what the consequences would be. I'm afraid it would only add to my guilt if I allowed you to help me."

Naga lowered his cup. "I'll only fix the superficial damage," he offered. "It won't exhaust me."

Ren held up a hand, shaking his head. "Thank you for caring about my well being, but I've already said no," he said. "And I don't think you're telling the truth."

Naga looked like he wanted to protest more, but he didn't. He only leaned back and adjusted the blanket so it covered me too. His eyes were unhappy.

"You won't be able to help anybody anymore if you hurt yourself too much," I murmured, fighting to keep my eyes open.

Naga sighed. "I know."

"So?" Konan asked Haruto again.

Haruto glanced up the staircase, closed his eyes for a moment, then stood. "I think I have about as much choice in the matter as Ren," he said. He sounded different somehow. Less tired than usual, maybe.

"That's the spirit!"

"I have your support?" Ren asked. He sounded deeply surprised.

"You have more than that," Haruto said, stepping down to the bottom. "I'll be acting as your advisor from now on, if you'll have me."

Ren stared at him. "You're willing to put your town in my hands?"

Haruto nodded. "Now that I know you're not selfish, at least. A selfish bastard would've taken Nagato's offer, regardless of what it would do to him."

My head dipped down and I jerked it up back up, forcing my eyes open again.

Hidan was standing in front of Yahiko, yelling, a red-purple bruise in the middle of his forehead.

Haruto and Ren were—

A hand covered my eyes.

I whined at Naga but couldn't find the energy to push him away.

" _You_ won't be able to help out if you don't get enough rest," Naga said quietly. "Goodnight, Oka."

I passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 絞り - Aperture, ボケ 味 - Bokeh, ノイズ - Noise
> 
> Question: What happened between Mamoru and Hanzo/who were they to each other? Tilt readers aren't allowed to answer. That's cheating. I really want to see if everyone interpreted that whole situation the way I meant it.


	29. A Man Named Haruto - Part 7

"When the hope of new beginnings burned our feet,

Now we need it:

A heartbeat for a tin man,

Oasis in a singed land,

Remind us what we're here for,

Creating new life,"

-Rivers in the Desert, Persona 5

* * *

I sat on a roof, my legs crossed. It was peppered with small holes, and I saw the dark insides of a shop through one, sawdust and abandoned boards on the floor.

Below me, Ren stood with Haruto. A small crowd had gathered in front of him. Haruto, in the middle of making a speech, gestured at Ren.

Ren's kimono was cleaner, his hair tied back with a paper flower.

The people bunched together on his left were those that supported Abhuraya, the other half those who starved under him. The right side was full of too-thin people with tired, wary eyes, the left of people who filled their clothes better, uncomfortable or nervous. They stood together, but distinctly apart.

Others watched from a distance, distrustful of Haruto or angry with Ren.

"How was Shikkotsu?" I asked.

Namekuji, using Naga's stomach as a cushion, looked over. "How hard were you hit in the head while I was gone? You've been there."

"Not the lower part."

"It's practically the same."

"It isn't," Naga protested. "I've never seen trees that tall before, and the leaves were bigger than I was."

"Someone so small _would_ think that."

The bread woman stood near the back of Abhuraya's supporters, hands clenched in the front of her dress. There were dark circles under her eyes.

"Do all slugs eat chakra?" I asked.

"No," Namekuji answered.

I hummed.

"Do all humans eat apples?" Namekuji asked back.

"It's not the _same_ ," I said.

"Apples are food to you. Chakra is food to me. How is it different?"

"I _don't_ need apples to live."

"Could've fooled me."

Naga choked on a laugh, holding his cough in when I narrowed my eyes at him.

I heard a soft flutter behind me, the unmistakable sound of Konan's paper wings. She barely made any sound when she landed.

The people below turned, pointing as her wings dispersed into floating slips, waving with both hands.

Konan, smiling wide, waved back.

Naga pushed himself up on his elbows. "How's Bashira?"

"She's _fine_ ," Konan said, shaking her head. "The same as this morning, last night, yesterday afternoon..."

"I'm being cautious," he defended.

"Nothing has or will go wrong," Konan said. "Stop worrying so much."

"Her life depends on whether I did a good job or not. I have to worry."

Konan quietly scoffed. "It's time to head home," she said. "We don't really have a reason to stay here anymore now that you're better. Ren and Haruto can handle what comes next."

Naga sat up, relocating Namekuji to his shoulder. "I need a few hours. I never got around to writing directions on how to clean her wounds properly. She could get an infection if it's done wrong."

"There's always the chance that at any second a squad from Konohagakure will pass through and ruin all our hard work."

"Two hours."

"Better."

I watched the crooked nose man approach the crowd from behind. Dirty looks and frowned followed him as he made his way to the front.

"I thought he was detained," I said.

Konan looked. "Yeah, the people who didn't fight or gave up right away were let go. It was around three people, I think."

The crowd went silent as he got down on one knee in front of Ren and bowed his head.

"What's he doing?" I asked.

"Sounds like he's swearing his loyalty to Ren," she said.

I couldn't hear them.

Shocked eyes and disapproving looked spread through the crowd. The people standing at a distance looked furious.

I hummed. "You think they'll try and kill him?"

Konan followed my gaze and frowned. "Not while we're here."

"And when we leave?"

"They won't," Naga answered. "At least until they know we won't come back. No one here knows where we're really from," he tapped his bare forehead. "For all they know, we could be from Konohagakure."

"Or missing-nin," Konan added.

Naga dropped his hand. "It'll work for a while. It's up to Ren to prove himself to them."

People on the left began to follow the man's lead. They knelt slowly, looking at each other questioningly. The bread woman looked up and caught my eye. She inclined her head, then joined the others on their knees.

Only one person on the other side knelt.

"Namekuji should stay with Ren," Konan suggested, watching the right half of the group shuffle and grumble to themselves.

"I'll de-summon myself," Namekuji said immediately.

" _Some_ might be too afraid to attack him in case we retaliate, but others won't care about that," she explained. "There are people who'll see what we did and think they can do it too. I _know_ Ren can do this, but enough would do anything to make sure he never gets the chance. Extra protection won't hurt."

"Hire a bodyguard," Namekuji suggested. "Shinobi have those."

"It won't be forever. Just until you run out of chakra," she said. "You can de-summon yourself and Nagato will summon you back."

Namekuji stared at her. "Did I ever tell you that I like the taste of your hair?"

Konan carefully swept loose strands behind her ears. "Do this for me, as my friend."

Namekuji made a rolling gesture with his tentacles that might've been an eyeroll. "I get to eat your origami for a week without any complaining."

Konan froze.

"Because _you're my friend_ ," he added.

Konan looked at Naga and he laughed. "I can't make Namekuji do anything."

"You could've chosen a friendlier slug as a summon," she said.

"Don't push it, Blue. I'll make it two weeks," Namekuji threatened.

Konan sighed deeply. "Fine. _One_ week _._ "

Namekuji glanced over the crowd. "Which one is Ren, again?"

**黄金**

Two burned stumps sat where the west gate should've been.

Blackened pieces of an arch were half-buried in the dirt. A sign cracked apart when I brushed my fingers over it. The front of it was so damaged that it was illegible.

"We are indebted to the Akatsuki," Haruto said, bowing deeply. "I'll make sure no one forgets who came to our aid."

Yahiko grinned, hands laced behind his head. "Glad we could help out."

Hanako waved beside him. I waved back.

I missed Kota. She was easier to talk to.

"You'll always have allies here," Ren said, bowing.

"If you send a message and it's meant for us, use scroll with a brown cover," Yahiko said. "We'll get it."

Haruto shook his head. "I'll send Kuu. He already has your scent."

"I wondered how he knew who to deliver messages to."

Naga bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Maybe we'll come back for a festival sometime," Konan said, smiling.

"I'm sure Inari would be pleased," Haruto told her.

Yahiko gave them one last look, turned around, and held a hand up in goodbye.

My fingers were blackened by ash.

Hidan stood off to the side where the road bordered a dead field.

The lavender field.

He kicked a rock. "Don't bother saying any mushy shit," he grumbled, not looking up. "I don't want to fucking hear it."

"Why would we do that? We're not in Yugakure yet," Yahiko said. He twisted around, walking backwards.

Hidan looked up, eyes wide.

"What kind of leader would I be if I let one of our unofficial members walk home by himself in the middle of a war?" he asked. "The answer is a bad one."

"Nagato suggested it first," Konan pointed out.

"He _voiced_ it first, but I was _already_ going to do it."

"You're fucked in the head," Hidan said. He fell in step behind us, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Look at it this way. Now Konan has time to teach you how to properly hold a kunai."

"I _know_ how to hold a kunai, dipshit," Hidan yelled.

There were scorch marks on the road, but the fire had been mostly contained to the field.

"Why did you pick Ren?" I asked Konan.

She smiled a little. "He was unconscious when I first saw him. Or I thought so, anyway. It would've been _so easy_ for him to escape because I didn't pay attention to him," she answered. "Abhuraya tried that. I went to stop him and Ren—he stood between me and Abhuraya. He looked awful, but he wouldn't stay down. Abhuraya tried to bribe me and Ren made himself a shield. He was willing to die if his slimy father got away. It just got to me."

Hidan stared distantly out at the field.

"You're ten, right?" Yahiko asked him.

Hidan's head whipped towards him. "What the _fuck_? _No_."

"Nine?"

"You piece of shit."

_Copycat._

Yahiko knew how to rile him, how to keep Hidan distracted and angry so he wouldn't be sad.

_Because I showed him first._

"Eight. Final answer," Yahiko guessed.

"I'm twelve you _dick_."

"Never would've guessed."

"What the fuck does _that_ mean?"

"Nothing at all," Yahiko said breezily.

"You're such a fucking asshole," Hidan shouted.

I looked to Naga.

"There's no one around," he assured me.

"You should teach him to sign."

Naga looked amused. "I would've already if I thought he would use it," he responded.

I watched Hidan yell at Yahiko and sighed.

**時間**

A cluster of small rocks jutted up out of the ground in the middle of the road, puffing lazy clouds of steam in the air.

Heat clung to my skin. Sweat matted my hair and dribbled down my forehead. The collar of my shirt was soaked. My cloak was tied around my waist, but it didn't help. I squeezed the end of my braid and sweat dripped from it.

I watched steam float up and disappear.

Naga waited ahead, his cloak wrapped around his head like a hat.

"What is it?" I asked. I wanted to step closer to it, but the thing was giving off waves of heat.

"A geyser," Hidan answered, wrinkling his nose. "A shitty one."

Konan had taken off her cloak and ripped the sleeves off her shirt.

"What does it do?" I asked him.

Hidan stared at me. "I don't fucking know it shoots water and steam up there—" he gestured wildly at the sky. "—and then it comes down like the shittiest rain ever."

I watched a tiny spurt of water bubble out the top and drain down the side.

"I _told you_ that one's shit," he grumbled. He took my hand and pulled me after him. "There are better ones around this shithole."

Yahiko was standing ahead, cloak tied around his waist. His gray shirt was drenched in sweat. "Y'know, I knew it was called Hot Water Country, but I somehow didn't expect this."

"This helps," Naga said, pulling at a corner of his cloak-hat.

"It does _not_ ," Konan denied, using her cloak to mop her face.

"How much farther until Yugakure?" Yahiko asked as Hidan dragged me past.

"We're not close, nutfuck."

"Oh. Good," Yahiko said lightly.

.

.

.

Hidan stopped in front of a small hill of jutting rocks and let go. "Fucking sweaty," he muttered, wiping his hands off on his pants.

The heat was worse, and I thought I saw the air shimmering. The hill spouted a thin trail of water.

"I thought I saw one just like this back there," Yahiko noted.

"Yeah, but it wasn't close to erupting, fuck face. If you want to wait another two hours for it then be my shitty guest."

Yahiko nodded. He sat heavily and dropped his head between his legs.

Konan crouched beside him, patting his back. "You okay?"

"Never been better," he murmured.

Naga pressed a hand to his forehead. "We should find a cool place for him soon."

"No, I'm fine. I love Hot Water Country."

Naga tried hard not to smile.

Hidan half-turned back to look at them, eyes narrowed, but didn't say anything.

"I don't think you'd like Amegakure," I told him, pushing wet strands out of my face.

"It's cold?" he asked.

" _Really_ cold."

"Can't be as cold as the Land of fucking Snow."

"Maybe," I shrugged. "I've never been."

"Yeah, but you know what shitty _snow_ is."

I tilted my head.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me."

I kept looking at him and he rolled his eyes.

"It's supposed to be this hard, icy stuff that's all over the ground there," he tried to explain. "The assholes that live there have to wear coats all the time because it's so cold."

"You've been?"

"No, but I don't have to go to know what the fuck _snow_ is."

"What does it look like?"

"Fuck me."

" _You_ brought it up," I pointed out.

Hidan glared at the geyser. "It's this white stuff. Like the shitty clouds, but solid. You can pick it up like dirt but it sticks together."

I hummed. "You're bad at explaining stuff."

Hidan's glare intensified. "Shut the fuck up."

"Want to go with me?"

He blinked.

"To the Land of Snow," I added.

He paused. "We're never going to see each other again, asshole."

"Why not?" I asked. "If we can come to Yugakure, you can come to Amegakure."

He stared at me.

A short wave of water gushed out of the geyser and soaked the grass. It was warm under my feet.

I rocked back on my heels. "It's okay if you don't want to. It's pretty far."

"You're so fucking _dumb_ ," he told me.

I shrugged. "You should bring a coat with you, just in case you get cold."

"I'm not bringing a shitty coat."

The geyser made a loud gurgling sound, a second before water exploded out of it. The wave shot a few feet up in the air before sinking, then rising again, higher than before.

Steam poured out of the opening in thick clouds.

Konan gasped and yelped as we were doused with water.

Naga ducked, letting his cloak-hat take the brunt of it.

Water spurted up and I had to tilt my head back to look at the crest.

Yahiko peeked up, breathing hard.

I held a hand up to shield my eyes, but I couldn't stop watching the water tumbled over itself, maintaining its height for a few seconds before it crashed down.

I snuck a glance at Hidan. He was grinning despite being soaked. It made me wonder how many times he'd watched this happen before.

The geyser shot a few smaller waves into the air before finally subsiding.

"Can we see another one?" I asked.

"As much as I'd _love_ to, I don't think I can take it," Yahiko admitted.

"Are there any bigger ones?"

"Thanks for caring, Oka."

Hidan made a face. "Yeah, but they take fucking forever to erupt. It's annoying."

"But we can see a smaller one?" I asked.

"I feel so loved," Yahiko drawled.

"We can go _without_ Yahiko," Konan suggested.

"So, _so_ loved."

"Maybe we _shouldn't_ leave Yahiko out here by himself while his body is overheating," Naga said.

Hidan looked back at Yahiko. He closed his eyes for a second, shoving his hands back in his pockets. "I'm going to fuck off," he announced.

Four pairs of eyes looked at him.

Hidan stepped back. "I know the fucking way back," he said gruffly. "I don't feel shit now, but it's warmer closer to the village. So I _know_ you pansies are going to shit yourselves and die."

" _You_ wouldn't be okay if it was cold," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, fuck you."

"We seriously _can_ leave him here to walk you back," Konan offered.

"Best squadmates I've ever had," Yahiko said, lowering his head.

Hidan shook his head. "Nah, just fuck off."

"When we meet next you can tell us what Yugakure is like," Naga said.

"It's shit."

"You say that about _everything_ ," I pointed out.

"Stop fucking talking to me," he said. He turned and walked away.

"He didn't even say goodbye," Konan mused.

Naga pulled Yahiko's arm around his shoulder. "He wouldn't be Hidan if he did."

Konan's gaze lingered on his back for a second. She shook her head. "Still. It'd be nice."

I stared at Hidan as Konan helped Yahiko up. He glanced back and raised his middle finger. I smiled and spun away.

Maybe it was easier if he didn't say goodbye.

Yahiko leaned heavily against Naga. "Remind me to bring ice next time we visit Hot Water. Enough to fill a pack."

Konan pressed the less-wet side of her cloak to his neck. "Or we leave you in Suisai next time."

Naga adjusted him. "If we hurry, we can reach the border by sunset."

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason, Nagato," Yahiko said.

I looked back, but I couldn't see Hidan.

It was a quiet walk back.

**恋人**

The only warning was the triple-prong kunai appearing suddenly out of the corner of my eye.

A hand had already closed around the handle when I turned my head.

I reached for a kunai, only to stop a quarter of the way when I felt the bite of cold metal against my neck.

Naga's head whipped back. The look he gave my attacker reminded me of Usagi, his malice in the instant before he summoned Namekuji.

"Identify yourselves," the shinobi said curtly. "And while you're at it, state your purpose in the Land of Fire. Cooperate and I'll—"

"Let her go," Naga cut him off, deadly calm.

I hated feeling helpless. My fists clenched.

The shinobi had a firm grip on my shoulder. The metal grazed my skin when I breathed in.

I felt the sting of the half-healed cut on my palm as my nails dug in.

_I'm not afraid of you._

But what good did that do?

"You heard him," Yahiko said. He rubbed the back of his head but never took his eyes off my attacker. "You're making it _really_ hard to stay peaceful, Konohagakure-nin."

Naga stepped forward without waiting for an answer and Yahiko snagged his arm. His free hand shot out in front of Konan and I knew she'd been turning her part of her body into paper beneath her cloak.

The shinobi went still. "You don't know who I am?" he sounded faintly surprised.

"Why should we? You don't exactly stand out compared to the shinobi we've already met from your village," Konan answered.

The shinobi's grip on his kunai went slack and it gave me just enough room to duck.

A kunai spun into my hand with barely a thought. I turned and slashed out at his legs, only to cut through the empty space where his ankles were moments before.

Eyes narrowing, I jerked back up, holding the kunai up as I looked around.

He was crouching sideways on a tree to my left, his odd kunai stuck in the bark at his feet.

Konan found him right after I did and frowned.

Naga stepped between me and the shinobi.

"It's been a long time since I felt this awkward during combat," the shinobi mused.

Yahiko glanced at me, then up at the shinobi. "If I asked how you did that, would you tell me?"

"Would you, if you were him?" Konan muttered.

"Depends on the jutsu," Yahiko answered, stroking his chin.

Konan shook her head, "Of course."

"Answer my question first," the shinobi said. "Where are you from?"

"Don't—"

"Amegakure," Yahiko said before Konan finished.

She looked exasperated.

The shinobi hummed but didn't reply. He pressed a hand flat against the bark. "Two sensory-types," he announced.

Naga stiffened. Konan's eyes narrowed.

His gaze drifted over to Yahiko. "The leader of your organization, and—" he looked at me.

I bared my teeth.

The shinobi smiled. "I can tell you'll grow to be exceptionally strong."

I responded by throwing my kunai.

He deflected it with a quick flick of his wrist and the kunai spiraled off into a bush. "Space-Time ninjutsu," he answered, looking back at Yahiko.

Yahiko blinked. "Okay, sure."

The shinobi tossed his kunai up and caught it. "What do you know about fuinjutsu?"

"This is the first time I heard of it," he admitted.

The shinobi paused at that. "I'm surprised, since without Jiraya-sensei's teachings I never would've developed my signature technique."

Konan inhaled.

It felt bittersweet.

The last time I thought of Jiraya, well.

It was a long time.

I glanced at Yahiko. His expression didn't change.

"How did you know?" Konan asked.

"It was when you told him he didn't stand out," Yahiko answered, though he didn't look at her. "You said we _met_ shinobi from Konohagakure, not that we fought them. If we were from a village allied with them, we would be wearing headbands. I just confirmed what he suspected when I told him our home village."

The shinobi straightened. "You're Yahiko?"

Yahiko's answer was a grin.

Konan stepped towards the shinobi. "What did Jiraya-sensei tell you about us?"

"Not much," the shinobi admitted. "What I know comes from _The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi,_ since it was based on his experience in Amegakure."

"He finished it?" Naga asked.

"Eight months after he came back," the shinobi confirmed. "It sold well, if you consider that it was published during a time when not many people read for leisure anymore. I liked it, anyway."

Naga's stance relaxed.

The copy of Jiraya's book we had was falling apart, all wrinkled pages and smudged words.

I kept a hand in my pocket.

Yahiko forgave him because he didn't want to fight. Naga, because the shinobi was the only connection we had to Jiraya-sensei after years of silence. But I...

I was four the last time I saw Jiraya.

The memories and feelings were still there. Gratitude, because without him I wouldn't be a shinobi at all. Happiness, frustration, and a deep sadness.

Thankful he at least said goodbye.

But that was seven years ago.

I spent more of my life _without_ him than _with_ him. Nagato, Konan and Yahiko remembered Jiraya in a way I didn't, I _couldn't,_ because I was so little back then.

They still had that bond, while I felt like I'd grown out of it.

I released a quiet breath.

"This is nice and all, but we still don't know your name, Konohagakure-nin," Konan said.

"Minato," he told her. "Minato Namikaze." He waited, but no one recognized the name.

Yahiko wandered over to Naga. "What do you think is in the book?"

Minato gave a huff of a laugh.

"We read it," Naga reminded him.

"We read the _first draft_ ," he said back. "The final version _has_ to be different."

"That old sage didn't even tell them my _name_ ," Minato murmured.

"Are we still in the book?" Konan asked.

"In a sense. The names and appearances are different but, having met you, it's easy to tell which characters were inspired by who."

"Am I in the book?" I asked.

"You are," Minato answered, hesitant.

I tilted my head. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Don't tell me Jiraya-sensei wrote something negative about my little sister?" Yahiko asked, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"There's a character of similar age," Minato began. "Late in the story, the main character encounters a spirit corrupted by the malicious intent of shinobi. It's described as a young girl with exaggerated, animalistic features."

"The main character must purify her by carrying her up a mountain to a group of monks that know how to perform a cleansing ritual, all the while fighting off her aggression and keeping her safe from those that want to use her for evil. It's one of the weaker subplots," he admitted.

"Sounds about right," Yahiko noted, looking at me.

Konan snorted.

I looked at Naga. "She's not corrupted," he said immediately.

I felt around in my pocket, counting how many kunai I had left, how many I could throw before someone stopped me.

Minato abruptly looked to the right. "I'll let Jiraya-sensei know I ran into you," he said distractedly. He gave a quick two-fingered salute. "Watch your step." He disappeared in a yellow flash.

Konan frowned. "I can't sense him at all."

Naga stared to the right. "I can."

"How far?"

"Twenty meters."

"That fast?"

Yahiko looked thoughtful. "'Space-Time ninjutsu,'" he repeated.

"Think he would've explained it if we asked?" Konan asked.

"Probably not," Yahiko answered. "Did we stand any chance in a fight against him?"

Konan smiled. "Not even a little. Not like that would've stopped us from trying."

"Still. Mental preparation for this kind of thing is important," he said, tapping his chin. "Punches hurt less if you're ready for them."

"We would've won," I said firmly.

Konan and Yahiko looked at me.

"If we kept getting back up he would get tired eventually."

"That's what the outmatched hope for," Yahiko agreed.

Konan leapt up onto a branch. "We should make a pit stop to find Jiraya's book."

"Not only do we not know where the nearest town is, we don't know if books are still being _sold_ ," Yahiko said. "Name the last time you've seen a book in a shop."

Naga knelt in front of me. "Step back, Oka."

I did, watching him dig up the dirt where my foot was and toss it aside.

"What're you doing?" I asked.

Naga didn't answer. He scooped out handful after handful until his hands up to his wrists were brown. He reached in to dig up more when his fingers hit something solid. He paused, brushing away dirt, and I saw the characters scrawled in black, drawn vertically on the ground.

Yahiko, standing beside him, whistled. "I don't know what that is but—"

"It's how he found us," Naga finished for him, tracing the characters with his thumb.

"He can probably tell we're doing this," Konan pointed out.

"If he didn't want us to find it, he wouldn't have warned us before he left," Yahiko said.

Konan looked at the branch she stood on. "They're probably hidden here, too."

Naga reached towards me, reconsidered his dirt-covered hands, then made a swiping motion in front of his neck.

I wiped my throat with the back of my hand and bits of dried blood came off. I stared at the red flakes on my knuckles. I couldn't even feel the cut.

It was so small that it already stopped bleeding, but accidentally or on purpose, he cut me _._

And I couldn't even get him back for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 黄金 - Golden, 時間 - Time, 恋人 - Lover
> 
> Minato used Intimidate.  
> It failed!


	30. A Man Named Hanzō - Part 1

"This world is what you need,

Where the monsters roam and the demons all feed,

Relax don't you look so weary,

It's all only temporary."

-Phantom, NateWantsToBattle

* * *

I rubbed a petal between my thumb and pointer finger.

It was soft.

The flower Naga planted for Etsudo's son was still alive.

The face of the flower was aimed up, straining for the pieces of sunlight that made it through the hanging moss.

I saw white-blue patches of sky through the gaps. There were barely any clouds at all.

I watched the sky as it bled to a darker blue, and then a blue so dark the sky looked black. I couldn't stop looking at it.

Naga sat on the wet grass next to me. "We could wait until morning to go back."

I shook my head, sniffing as tears blurred my vision. I wiped them away with my sleeves. "The faster we go back, the sooner we can see everyone again."

When would I be able to feel warm again?

I had only just gotten used to not being cold all the time.

Naga pulled me against him. "Think of what you felt the first time we saw the sun come up and everyone else getting to feel that when they see it too," he murmured. "Imagining it makes me a little less sad."

I buried my face in his chest.

He sighed into my hair. "I promise you'll get to see it again."

.

.

.

The clouds were thick and dark gray, the only thing standing between us and the sun.

I held out a hand as the drizzle started, as the cold sapped away the warmth, settling in my bones like an old friend I'd forgotten.

Water bobbed gently under my feet.

The village was up ahead, a skeleton of half-finished metal buildings and rubble.

"I really missed this place," Yahiko mused, walking ahead, hands behind his head.

I dropped my hand. "Why?"

"Because of how much I want to save it," he answered. "There's so much pain here. It's such a crybaby. But it made us who we are. We never would've helped Suisai if this place didn't show us how wrong it is to leave other people to suffer, that the only way to fix something wrong is to do it ourselves."

He shook his head, looking up. "I owe this place for that, because I don't want to be anyone other than who I am now." He paused and laughed a little. "That sounds really messed up out loud, doesn't it?"

Konan pulled his arm down so she could squeeze his hand. "If I wasn't born here we never would've met," she said. "I wouldn't be happy in that life."

"I wouldn't be a shinobi, or a medic-nin," Naga said quietly, staring out over the lake. "I would've been a civilian, and I never would've been able to help as many people."

I looked at the people I loved most, then at the village.

_Without Amegakure, I wouldn't be me._

I would still have Naga if I were born somewhere else. And I would have the sun.

But I never would've met Yahiko and Konan, Jiraya and Tsunade, Mamoru-sensei, Namekuji, Kota, or anyone else.

I would have different friends, and I wouldn't be part of the Akatsuki.

Who would that 'me' be?

Someone who felt like killing was wrong, someone who never knew loss.

Someone who never went to Suisai.

Someone without a dream of peace.

I couldn't imagine that 'me'.

It rained harder, creating ripples.

"It's because of what happened to us as kids that I want to protect others from that," Yahiko added. He used his free hand to point to the middle of the village. "I'm going to build an Academy there—" he moved his hand to the left. "—and a hospital there. Nagato will run it."

Naga choked, coughing into his palm. "I'll what?"

"We need more medic-nin and you're the only one I trust to train them right," Yahiko said, looking back. "I can't waste the best medic-nin in Amegakure, can I?"

Naga's eyes widened.

"I won't interfere, even if you do a bad job," he added with a grin.

"I'll..." Naga trailed off. He shook his head, his smile soft. "I'll try."

We were closer to the village, and the rain turned into a downpour. I was completely soaked in seconds, but I didn't mind it anymore.

"Try is an understatement. I feel bad for all the future trainees you'll overwork," Konan said.

Naga's smile widened. "I'll only push them to be their best."

She scoffed.

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Well—"

"Stop," Naga said suddenly. He stared ahead of us and his smile disappeared.

Konan stepped away from Yahiko. "How many?" she asked.

"Ten high-level shinobi and Hanzo. He's waiting for us," Naga answered.

"Hostile?" Yahiko asked.

Naga's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know."

Yahiko looked ahead and a few seconds passed before he shook his head. "Let's go meet him, then."

Naga hesitated.

Konan's eyes flicked forward, uneasy.

"There's no choice," he added. "I have the feeling he has shinobi watching all of the most common entry and exit points along the border, too. The only way to avoid this is to go back to Fire Country and I can't abandon this place. I _can't._ "

Naga sagged. "You're right."

"We weren't going to," Konan said. "But a plan would be nice."

Yahiko crossed his arms. "The plan is for Oka not to growl at Hanzo."

Three pairs of eyes looked at me.

"Maybe he shouldn't do anything worth being growled at," I chirped.

Yahiko stared at me. I stared right back.

"Good enough," he eventually conceded.

Yahiko faced away and Naga took my hand. I looked at him.

"This is for my health," he murmured. "As long as I hold onto you, you can't do anything to weaken my heart."

I frowned and started to protest when I saw how scared he was.

Not for himself. Never for himself.

For me.

The words caught in my throat. "Only because it's you," I muttered.

Naga shot me a small, grateful smile and followed Yahiko.

I saw the shadows of people standing on the shore, lined up, waiting. One stood in front. Hanzo. He gripped a chain-sickle in his right hand.

Shinobi wearing rebreathers stood behind him.

Naga let go of my hand, but hovered close.

Yahiko stopped on the water, only a few feet between us and them. "Hanzo," he greeted nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. "Finally come around on my offer to work together?"

Hanzo the Bastard didn't blink. "Why shouldn't I execute you where you stand?"

Yahiko glanced up at a half-built tower. "As long as war continues outside of Rain Country, Amegakure will never know peace," he said. "The only way for the village to have true peace is for the world to be at peace too. That's why we left. I'm going to end the war, but if I ignore people suffering because they're from a different country, it'll never happen. I'll just be a liar."

He locked eyes with Hanzo. "We went to Fire Country to help a town that needed us. We're not deserters, and we're not traitors," he said. "I love Amegakure too much to leave it. As long as the people here are in pain I'll always come back."

Hanzo stared at him. Yahiko didn't flinch.

Half a minute passed before Hanzo relaxed his grip on his sickle. "We will meet at Shido Valley in three days time," he finally decided. "Only then will I hear your plan for peace, Yahiko of the Akatsuki."

Hanzo didn't wait for a response before he sheathed his weapon and walked away.

Yahiko inclined his head anyway.

.

.

.

"I can't sense them," Naga said.

Konan sighed deeply in relief and sank down against the wall.

Naga bent over, hands on his knees, and caught his breath.

I watched them, standing at the mouth of the alley, and I wondered if not being afraid was wrong.

I couldn't sense like they could, but still.

Our encounter with Hanzo felt a lot like the first time, except back then he didn't have a weapon. He'd focused only on Yahiko this time, and it was like the rest of us weren't there at all.

I pulled at the memory of fear. Afraid that I would be left behind, afraid of Jiraya and Tsunade leaving, terrified that without them around, we would never be strong enough to stop the war.

I knew what it felt like, but when I tried to summon it, to guide the feeling towards the thought of Hanzo, I felt anger instead. It boiled into rage when I thought of Root and what he'd done to Mamoru-sensei.

I leaned back on my heels, as if my anger were a force pushing my body forward and this was the only way I could keep my balance.

Yahiko pressed his back against the wall, tilted his head back, and quietly laughed.

Konan looked baffled. She pushed herself up and swatted his stomach.

He choked.

"What about that was funny? It was _terrifying_ ," Konan said. "He was going to kill us."

Yahiko still shook with laughter. "I know."

"Our impending deaths are funny to you?"

He shook his head. "I'm just happy," he said. "This is the closest we've ever been to peace."

Konan stared.

"I only have one shot at it," Yahiko continued. " _One_ shot to convince Hanzo the Salamander to help me fight for peace. But he gave me a chance." he said, grinning, shaking his head.

Konan looked away. "I want to believe in Hanzo's offer as much as you do, but it's probably a trap."

"There's no 'probably' about it," Naga said. "It's a trap."

"It's _also_ the only chance we have for a peaceful end to all of this. I ignore it and he'll trust us even less. He'll _never_ agree to meet again," Yahiko countered, his good mood fading. "But the way Amegakure is now isn't working and it can only be fixed if we have the power to make big changes. If we refuse to meet or I can't convince him to share his power then our path forward is soaked in blood."

He looked away from us. "If we start a war, Hanzo _will_ use the shinobi and civilians here against us. I don't want to have to kill anyone I said I would protect or turn the Akatsuki into something we're not. We _have_ to do this, not only for us, but for everyone else, too." He smiled, but it looked wrong.

_A sad smile doesn't suit you, Yahiko._

I strode forward as Konan and Naga took in what he said and wrapped my arms around his middle.

He let out a laugh that sounded more surprised than genuine, a second before Konan hugged him too.

"Look, I appreciate all the love, but you're both squeezing me kind of tight—"

Konan reached back and grabbed Naga's arm, rolling her eyes at his panicked look as he was yanked into the group hug.

"Okay, now I really can't breathe," Yahiko gasped.

Squished in the middle, I looked up.

Konan, smiling wide, had an arm around both Yahiko and Naga's necks.

Naga patted her arm urgently. "I can't run any future hospitals if I die of asphyxia—" she tightened her grip and he made a sad little wheeze.

Konan looked happier.

"Mercy," Yahiko choked out.

I considered intervening as Naga turned bright red, but then she'd only release him to grab _me._

"Ah," Konan said, looking down, reading my thoughts like glass. "Isn't this nice, Oka?"

"Please," Yahiko tried. "Air."

Naga made a strangled sound.

I nodded obediently.

**日没**

I knelt and picked up a scroll, the pale-yellow outer covering discolored by water stains.

I spread it out on the floor and smoothed it down, catching the words 'request,' 'pay,' and the symbol for Kusagakure written in wobbly script at the bottom. I skimmed it, skipping over the words I couldn't read or were too ruined to make out.

Two more scrolls were next to my feet, one gray, the other tan.

I knew Kota had been careful to keep them out of the rain because they were all more readable than the Suisai scroll.

"He won't agree to your plan," Mamoru-sensei said. He sat beside Osamu, the couch more broken-down than when we'd left. It sagged heavily in the middle.

Mamoru had looked at Yahiko in blatant disbelief as he told an exaggerated story of what happened in Suisai (not because we'd done it, but because we'd done it so _fast_ ), but when Yahiko told him about our encounter with Hanzo his expression shuttered into something darker.

Osamu, hands folded under his chin, stared hard at the floor.

"I'm trying to stay optimistic here," Yahiko said, biting the tail off a tiny, cooked, leftover fish. Bones and pieces of skin littered his lap, his Akatsuki cloak an impromptu table.

Etsudo sat against the back wall, Konan in front of her, a pile of our pouches and weapons between them. Etsudo inspected corners of shuriken and the tips of kunai with careful, practiced hands.

Konan leaned forward, made a wild gesture with her hands, and I could hear Etsudo's laugh from across the room.

Etsudo was telling her a story about her and Mamoru-sensei's short-lived genin team, but I couldn't help but notice her tired eyes. It was easy to see past her enthusiasm, the not-quite-full smile she put on.

I looked above them to where Maho sat on the second floor, peering down at us through the bars. Naga's textbook was next to his knee. He raised a hand when he caught my eye, hesitant, unsure of how he fit in with the rest of us, but I didn't return it.

He wasn't part of the Akatsuki. Not really. Not yet.

"Optimism will get you nowhere with him," Mamoru-sensei finally said back.

Naga laid on the floor close to the door, his Akatsuki robe tucked under his head, Namekuji feeding off his chakra while he slept.

Yahiko swallowed. "He'll agree, because I'll _make him_ see it my way," he told him. "The path we're on—it's always been the hardest one. It doesn't matter how stubborn or paranoid Hanzo is because this isn't about me or him. The village _has_ to change, or everyone living here will die. I _have_ to believe that somewhere inside he still wants what's best for this place."

Mamoru-sensei closed his eyes. Etsudo trailed off and went quiet.

"I promised peace," he continued. "Everyone believed in me because I said we were _different_ from the people that take what they want _._ I said we would change the world our own way. If I turn my back on that now, what makes me any different than Hanzo?"

The question twisted my stomach into knots. It felt wrong.

"Don't compare yourself to him. The way he treats shinobi better than civilians—that existed before Shuji," Mamoru-sensei said, leaning back, voice was carefully level. "I used to blame the war for why we had to accept that deal with that one-eyed bastard, but all it took was you, years ago, for me to see that it was our own fault. We spent so much time protecting the place that we stopped protecting the people."

 _What did 'peace'_ really _mean?_

_Could you kill for peace and still call what you did peace?_

"Not even as tall as me and you made me think you would've made better decisions than the four of us combined," Mamoru-sensei ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "If we stopped sending as many shinobi out into Rain Country to defend our border so aggressively, things might be different. Even if it was I know the Akatsuki still would've come knocking and I'd feel old and obsolete, regardless."

Osamu looked at him in surprise.

"Was that a speech, Mamoru-sensei?" Konan asked, eyebrow raised.

"That was a speech," Yahiko confirmed, cracking rib bones off and popping them in his mouth.

Mamoru-sensei made a vague, grumbly noise at them and covered his face with his hand.

I turned back to the scrolls.

Konan stood. "Who do you think will give a 'cheer up' speech next? Etsudo, Osamu, or Maho? Or should it be a 'you're wrong and here's why' speech?"

"Annoying kids," Mamoru-sensei grouched.

"The second one is too long," Yahiko answered. "I would call it the 'Yahiko is the best influence and changed my life for the better' speech."

Konan snorted. "What about 'Yahiko is so full of himself that other people aren't allowed to make speeches without him giving himself credit?'"

"That doesn't exactly roll of the tongue..."

"But yours does?" Konan asked, crossing her arms.

Etsudo turned a kunai over in her hands, a wistful look in her eyes. "You're so different I can't believe it's you sometimes, Mamo," she murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 日没- Sunset
> 
> Seat belts properly fastened, everyone?


	31. A Man Named Hanzō - Part 2

"But as always, 'Concentrate' I say and stay working,

Scissors clutched tightly while I cut deep into the deed,

Even if these scissors have a habit of bleeding,

Sharpen them well and they'll sweep cleaner to your needs."

-The Tailor of Enbizaka, Oktavia

* * *

Kota sat next to me.

Her hair was short, barely reaching her ears, all uneven ends and loose strands that curled down to her jaw. She wore my old sandals and black, fingerless gloves.

She punched my shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt. "Next time, don't leave me behind."

Joji moved soundlessly, no movement wasted as he kept Yahiko on the defensive, following him as he was forced back, slicing deep nicks in his practice sword.

Yahiko coated it in a layer of chakra at the start, making it as hard as stone.

I hummed, wondering what she would've thought of Hidan. I bet they would've argued all the time.

"You were tired," I defended. "And Yahiko was too excited to wait."

Yahiko focused on Joji's arm instead of the nagamaki, reading the twist of his wrist, the tensing of his arm muscles. Yahiko blocked a quick strike on his left side, twisted the practice sword sideways, and deflected a slice on his right.

His chest heaved, his cloak in a forgotten heap next to me.

"So?" Kota asked. "I would've come if you woke me up."

I shrugged. "You did enough. If it wasn't for you, we never would've known about Suisai at all."

She stared at me before ducking away, making a frustrated noise. "How do you always make me feel so..." she trailed off and waved her arms at me.

Joji's nagamaki twitched to the left and Yahiko responded, practice sword halfway there to block when Joji sliced straight up.

I heard Yahiko suck in as he jerked his head back, using the movement to flip backwards, one hand pushing off the ground to throw his body into the air, the other still clutching the sword. He flashed through one-handed signs, inhaling hard. He held his breath for a second, then spat a small fireball at Joji.

Joji leapt back and up as it hit water and exploded, shooting fire in all directions. The water hissed and roiled, but the fire persisted.

I watched a thick curtain of steam rise between them, even as Kota lost interest.

"Do you think people should say sorry when something bad happens to someone else?"

Kota looked at me oddly. "What for?"

I felt relief.

Joji's nagamaki shot through the steam, pinwheeling, a red-silver blur.

Yahiko's barely yanked his sword up before it reached him—but it met no resistance. It cleaved through his practice sword like it was paper and the handle whacked him hard in the face. His head snapped to the side. I frowned.

The nagamaki slid into the sand behind him.

Kota leaned close. "Who told you _that_?"

Yahiko stumbled to the side, raising a hand to his cheek as Joji stepped through the steam. He winced. "A little higher and Konan would've had to make me a paper eyepatch," he mused.

"Only if you were sloppy," Joji signed.

Yahiko laughed. He threw the broken sword away.

"He's fine," Kota insisted, shifting closer to block my vision. "Couldn't Nagato just fix him, anyway?"

"He can't _grow_ a new eye," I told her.

Kota looked nonplussed. "Not like it would change anything."

I sighed. "There was a girl in Suisai. Hanako," I answered. "Her mama was sick. Someone else was there and he said he was sorry for her. They looked at me weird when I asked why."

"They're the weird ones," Kota said. "Why would he be sorry for _that_?"

"Or _we're_ weird."

"Nope," she denied, and that was that.

I smiled. "I really missed you, Kota."

Kota stared at her feet. "I... Yeah," she stammered. "Me too."

My smile widened.

Joji batted away a punch, dropped into a sweeping kick, and Yahiko leapt to the side to avoid it. His cheek was a deep, swollen purple. He rolled, pressing a hand to the sand to push himself backwards as Joji pursued him, but instead his hand slid, and he flopped backwards with a startled shout.

Joji raised his foot and Yahiko, eyes wide, rolled frantically as it came down. Sand and earth cracked apart under Joji's heel.

Yahiko made the Hare seal, tilted head back as water gathered in his mouth, then spewed it out in a massive wave that put out the fire and overflowed the pond.

Joji was swallowed by it. Two seconds passed before his hand broke the surface, he found a handhold, and he pulled himself up on top of it.

Yahiko cut off the jutsu. He wiped his mouth, rolled to his feet, and dived for—

"That's enough," Joji signed as the water evened out.

Yahiko paused, hand outstretched towards the nagamaki. "I passed?"

"Don't be cocky," Joji signed. Ignoring Yahiko, he picked up the nagamaki himself and wiped sand off with his shirt.

Yahiko looked like he wanted to respond but held himself back. They'd only argue if he did.

Joji closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and got down on his knees in front of Yahiko. He bowed his head and raised the nagamaki to him, holding it horizontally with both hands.

Yahiko looked surprised, rubbing the back of his head. "Sensei, really, you don't have to—"

"The passing of a weapon from master to student carries much more significance in the Land of Iron than here, I'm aware," Joji signed. "There, the tradition is seen as the master handing not just a weapon, but a part of himself to his student."

I looked at Kota. She shrugged and drew stick figures in the sand.

Yahiko looked at the nagamaki, at Joji, and dropped his hand. "What do I do?"

"If we were in the Land of Iron, you would earn the respect of your peers by wielding your master's blade in combat against whoever completed the tradition last, watched by the elder samurai," Joji answered.

Yahiko blinked. "I could spar with Maho and everyone could dress up as samurai and watch."

"There is much more to the tradition than that, but none of it is important. I only wanted to perform this small piece," Joji said. "Take it, understand the significance, and that will be enough."

Yahiko carefully took it from him.

Joji stood. He looked both proud and incredibly sad. He untied the strap holding the sheath. "Once you've sheathed it for the first time, no one else may claim ownership to it."

Yahiko paused. "Are all traditions from the Land of Iron this heavy?"

Joji looked amused despite his best effort to keep a straight face. "Traditions around the world tend to have weight behind them, no matter their origin."

"Don't fall asleep," I chastised, poking Kota as her head dipped.

"I'd rather be training than _watching_ ," she muttered. She stretched her arms above her head. "Why aren't we sparring?"

"'Cause I wanted to watch Yahiko," I answered. "Can't focus on them if I'm trying to hold back."

Kota blinked. She shoved me. "I'm almost as good as you are in taijutsu," she hissed, but she was smiling.

I carefully didn't reply.

She shoved me harder. "I am!"

Yahiko sheathed the nagamaki.

**トワイライト**

I woke up to Namekuji nudging me, his slimy head pressed to my face.

I rolled away and sneezed slime out of my nose.

"I expect a 'thank you' worm when you come back," Namekuji said as I used my sleeve to wipe my cheek, peering at him sleepily. "One of the big ones from the bottom of the lake."

I blinked and remembered what day it was.

Mamoru-sensei, Osamu, and Joji sat in a circle playing cards. Etsudo leaned close, peered over Mamoru's shoulder at his hand, then held up two fingers to the others.

Mamoru lowered his hand and sighed deeply.

Maho was curled up at the base of the staircase, hands shoved under his armpits, shivering.

I didn't see Naga or Yahiko.

My breath caught.

_They left me._

I shot to my feet, but they weren't upstairs either. I clenched my fists, stalking over to Mamoru-sensei. "Why?" I demanded.

_Why didn't you wake me?_

_Why did you let them leave me behind?_

Mamoru abandoned his cards in the middle and picked out a new hand from the excess pile. He didn't look up. "Nagato and Konan can be persuasive devils when they band together," he answered.

Osamu looked up, apologetic. "They want you to be safe," he said.

I felt a burning, red-hot stab of anger.

_Training, becoming strong, chakra—all of it was to keep up with them. All of it was so I'd never be left behind._

"They'll be fine," Etsudo said, leaning back. "I've never met a bunch of kids more stubborn than those three. Even _if_ it doesn't go how they think it will, I bet they'll walk right through that door like it was no big deal with a new, even crazier plan."

I stared at her until her easy smile faded. She didn't _get it._

Mamoru glanced sideways at Namekuji. "This would've been easier if a certain slug did what his master wanted," he said.

Namekuji rolled his eyes. "Master," he repeated with a scoff.

I turned and ran for the door.

Osamu half-stood, about to protest or try or stop me or both when Namekuji threw himself at them and landed in the middle, sending cards and slime into the air.

I heard Etsudo gasp, Joji's noise of protest, and I bolted out into the rain.

.

.

.

I was lost.

I bent over and caught my breath.

I left without a plan, with only a vague idea of where Shido Valley was, driven only by the desire to _be there._

I stood in a marsh, surrounded by walls and bits of concrete submerged in the mud, covered in moss. It was near where Mamoru-sensei took us to train, close to where Naga was attacked by Root.

The only sound was the white noise of the rain and the sound of my own breathing.

I'd never been out alone since then.

I glared at the mud and wanted to scream.

_All I ever wanted was to be included._

It was only me, my thoughts, and the remnants of a battlefield.

Was it really a surprise that Naga and Konan wanted me to stay behind?

I thought of Yahiko stopping me from walking into a wire-trap, Minato Namikaze and the threat of death at my neck. How I showed Hanzo I wasn't afraid of him, but it ultimately meant nothing.

I grimaced. _I would leave me behind._

I crouched, arms around my knees.

_I just wanted to help._

"Hello there," a deep, gravelly voice said behind me. "Are you the one they call 'Oka?'"

I left my weapons pouch back at the hideout, but I still had three kunai in my pocket. I gripped one, looking back at the thing sticking out of the ground. Only its head and shoulders were visible. The left side of it was completely black, vaguely person-shaped, but the right side was white and wrinkled and deformed.

"Maybe," I answered.

It had a single yellow eye and its teeth were rows of sharp triangles. "A friend sent me to help you," he said. Green, plant-like spikes poked out of the ground around it. "He wants me to take you to Shido Valley."

I stared at the thing.

_How did it know about—?_

"Are you a plant?"

The thing's lone eye widened. "You're certainly an interesting one," it mused. "What I am doesn't matter. But if I don't take you right now, everyone you care about will die."

I looked at it, searching for a lie, a trick, but I couldn't read its face.

_Yahiko wouldn't let that happen._

It knew my name.

_I didn't know who sent it._

It knew about the others.

_I had to believe Hanzo cared more about the people here than himself, even if only a little._

I wouldn't find the valley by myself.

I stood. "Take me."

It dipped its head and rose to its full height, man-shaped with a mangled right side. "You can call me Zetsu."

.

.

.

I climbed to the top of the hill, rocks digging into my heels, mud under my fingernails.

Zetsu quietly sank into the ground behind me but I could only focus on Hanzo, standing on the cliff opposite of me, a small army of shinobi behind him.

He held Konan by the ropes binding her arms, his other hand pointing a kunai at the back of her head.

I fell back, eyes wide.

_Why?_

_Why isn't Amegakure important to you?_

Yahiko and Naga were far below, alone, standing in the middle of the valley.

My fingers twitched. If I threw kunai, he'd kill Konan.

_Why does it always have to end in blood?_

I grit my teeth. I couldn't reach them with Headhunter.

They were too far away to hear, but a shinobi beside Hanzo threw a kunai at my brother's feet.

_Why does it always go wrong?_

It was my deepest, darkest fear, the only thing in the world I never wanted to come true.

Someone I loved was in danger, and I couldn't do anything to help.

Naga picked it up, hesitant, shaking, staring at it like it he'd never seen a kunai before.

My heartbeat roared in my ears and I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.

_Peace... is it really a dream?_

I had to—

He'd spot me if I made an earth clone.

I watched Yahiko turn, fists clenched, a look on his face I'd never seen before, and I knew what would happen next.

Four steps and he'd angle his body so the kunai sank in his chest, lodging deep enough to slip between his ribs and pierce his heart.

Naga's eyes would fill with horror, they would stumble back together, and then Yahiko would slip off his shoulder and die, just like that.

And then it would all be wrong.

_And then I'd destroy the place that destroyed him._

I blinked once. Yahiko was alive, turning to look at my brother.

Even so, I felt the grief, the anguish. I still felt like I'd just watched him die.

Yahiko took a step.

I raised a hand, automatic and stiff, and had one thought:

_You're not allowed to die._

The only way to describe what happened next was with one word.

Power.

It was a door clicking open in my head, the release of a breath I never knew I was holding, the flood of indescribable, incomprehensible _power_ setting my chakra on fire.

I flexed my fingers and _pushed._ I didn't move, didn't breathe, but an invisible, almighty wave pulsed from my hand and careened straight into Yahiko when he took that second step, throwing him back and gouging a chunk out of ground he'd been standing on.

He crashed into a wall. Mud and rocks rained down on top of him.

My palm burned, the tips of my fingers going numb.

_Too much chakra._

I didn't care. I didn't think.

I aimed my hand at Hanzo the _Bastard_ —

His hand was around Konan's throat, her feet dangling over the edge of the cliff. There were two of her for a brief second. One face down on the ground, hands still bound.

_Genjutsu._

Blood leaked from the mouth of the Konan in his grip, one hand limp and twisted the wrong way, the other prying and scratching at Hanzo's wrist. She glared at him, even as she choked.

_Konan._

There was only time for that single thought before he snapped her neck.

Konan instantly sagged, eyes rolling up. Her hand fell away from his and went limp. The 'Konan' that was tied up melted into soggy paper.

Something screamed. It might've been me.

Power exploded from my palm and pain tingled down my arm, but he was too far away. A handful of shinobi skidded back but Hanzo didn't move. He looked at me and tossed Konan away.

He made a gesture towards the shinobi with his free hand and they threw two volleys of kunai. One aimed at me, the other at Naga and Yahiko.

I watched her body tumble down the side of the cliff, rolling end over end. I waited for the genjutsu to lift on that 'Konan' too, for her to appear somewhere else, maybe hurt, but not—

Naga slammed both hands against the ground, a sound of rage and grief tearing out of him.

I stumbled back, a sudden sharp pain in my shoulder. I looked at the kunai buried hilt deep. The sky was filled with metal.

Thick clouds of white smoke filled the valley.

My hand rose, palm up, and an invisible, impassible barrier forming right above me, sending the kunai into the dirt around my feet. I held it for three seconds before I fell to my knees and threw up.

A shadow with purple stripes on its back towered over me.

_Konan, Konan, Konan._

I jerked when I felt a bolt of pain in my back and stared up at a second volley of kunai. Half of them lodged in Namekuji, but half of them didn't.

I couldn't feel my arm.

I wondered if this was where I died, too.

A pair of sandaled feet landed in front of me, and a wall of water shot up and swept the kunai away.

_Yahiko._

I was barely awake as Yahiko pulled me onto his back, arms looping around my legs. He stumbled as he straightened, and I felt him tremble. He was bruised all over.

Namekuji craned his neck back, yellow gushing from his mouth, and acid rained down on Hanzo's army.

The valley filled with screams.

A volley of shuriken and kunai shot through Namekuji's massive body and dropped out the other side, covered in slime. Bodies around Hanzo collapsed, rivers of blood running down the cliff.

Hanzo made a quick hand sign and vanished, reappearing behind his army, away from the spray. He pressed a hand against the back of the shinobi closest to him and Ibuse appeared in a puff of smoke, crushing whoever was still alive.

Ibuse answered Namekuji with clouds of purple smoke.

Yahiko tightened his grip around me, jumped, and met no resistance as we sank into Namekuji's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> トワイライト - Twilight


End file.
